Artemis Fowl: The Desiderata
by Lli
Summary: Yes! I am writing one of those "Artemis Fowl: insert catchy noun here" stories! An AU mystery set post-TEC. What could have happened if TOD hadn't. Holly is framed for the theft of a priceless artefact and finds herself in need of some assistance.
1. Chapter 1

Alrighty, the long-awaited (by me, at any rate) mystery story! This is going to be vastly different from my usual subject matter, tone and style so, hopefully I pull it off. I've made reference to about a dozen different mystery authors and stories, including "Mairelon the Magician" by Patricia C. Wrede, whose plot I more or less cribbed for this story. I actually, rather accidentally, ended up borrowing more of it than I thought I would... Anyway, there's also allusions to Eoin Colfer, to the original poem "The Desiderata", and to at least one, maybe two, pieces of fanfiction. Imitation is, after all, the most sincere form of flattery. Ie. please don't hate me.

Words can't express how AWESOME my tireless beta is - the one and only ilex-ferox - whose brilliance now extends all the way to plot devices and moral support. I don't think I've ever need so much cajoling to finish a story.

And, lastly, this will probably be the last thing you see from me for at least a few months as I am heading out to the backwaters of Laos (a country which is a backwater even in its forewaters, but which I love all the same) and where internet is a definite luxury item. So, I will expect great things from all of you when I finally get back to a computer and I'm sorry if my reviews come late.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Artemis Fowl: The Desiderata**

_Desiderata (plural): Latin for "things most needed or to be desired"._

_For all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. - The Desiderata_

**January 2****nd****, 2011, Immingham, South Humberside, England**

Standing in front of a red pillar-box, Mulch tapped a small, white envelope against his lips. This momentary hesitation didn't last long. With a toothy grin and a decisive nod, he shoved the letter into the slot.

In a few days, someone would be getting the surprise of their life.

* * *

**January 3****rd****, 2011, Police Plaza, Haven City, The Lower Elements**

LEP Commander Julius Root stared at the memo on his desk. An unlit fungus cigar dangled precariously in the corner of his mouth as it hung open in disbelief. This was really not how he'd wanted to start his Monday morning.

'They're not serious?' He looked up at Major Kelp.

Trouble fidgeted with his cuffs. 'It looks bad, sir. She – there's no way to prove it wasn't her. There's even DNA evidence at the scene that - '

'What are you talking about? That proves it wasn't her. I don't hire idiots. No officer of mine would leave behind evidence at the scene of a crime.'

'With all due respect, sir, I don't think that the jury will see it quite that way.'

'And, with all due respect, Major, I don't really give a flying dryad's ass how a jury will see it. She isn't guilty.' Root glared at his subordinate. 'I know she isn't.'

Trouble cleared his throat uncomfortably, 'Believe me, sir, we'd all like to believe that she is innocent – '

'Well, someone sure as d'Arvit doesn't, or they wouldn't have gone to such lengths to frame her.'

'- but the evidence against her is rather overwhelming,' Trouble continued doggedly. 'Besides, she has no known alibi for her whereabouts during the time in question – '

'No known alibi!' Root stood, slamming his hands onto his desk, making his ashtray – and Trouble Kelp – jump a few centimetres. 'Has anyone even _asked _her?'

'Well, no,' Trouble admitted, 'but it's commonly known that during the time of the theft she is usually on her way home from the gym.'

'Too commonly known,' Root grumbled. 'I want her brought in _immediately. _Do you understand me, Major? _Now. _Before those idiot Inspectors get at her. Now!' He glared at the elf before him. 'Well? Why are you still here?'

'Of course, sir. Sorry, sir.' Trouble turned, hurrying from the room.

* * *

**January 3****rd****, 2011, 01-09 Wexford Crescent, Haven City, The Lower Elements**

Holly Short groaned as the sound of her doorbell echoed through her tiny flat. Catching sight of her bedside clock, she groaned again. 'Who in Frond's name...?' she muttered around a yawn.

Rolling off of her futon, she rummaged through yesterday's socks and trousers until she found something to put on under her over-large T-shirt.

'Yes, yes, I'm coming,' she griped at her insistent doorbell.

'What?' Holly yanked the door open, more forcibly that was really necessary. 'Do you know what time-? Trouble?' She blinked. 'What are you doing here? Oh, for Frond's sake, don't tell me I need to come in, it's my day off. My first one since ... since I can't even remember when.'

That was a lie: she could remember her last day off perfectly well. She had been called in to work that time too. But it involved memories she didn't want to remember. More specifically, it involved people she didn't want to remember. Or wished she didn't want to remember. Or ... Well, it was complicated.

'You've got to come in,' Trouble gave her a lopsided grin. Behind his smile he seemed nervous, however, and Holly frowned.

'Sure. Do I get a minute to change, or is this a national crisis?'

'You'd better come as is. I'll treat you to a nettle smoothie on the way.'

Holly rolled her eyes as she stuffed her feet into her LEP boots. 'Boy, you sure know how to tempt a girl, Trubs. A nettle smoothie? Don't overdo it.'

Trouble tried to laugh, but all that came out was an odd strangled sound.

Holly eyed him quizzically. 'You okay, Trouble? You seem a bit out of sorts.'

'What? No. No, I'm fine. But we've got to hurry.'

'Okay, alright, I'm coming,' Holly shrugged into her jacket, 'let's go then.'

* * *

**January 3****rd****, 2011, Police Plaza, Haven City, The Lower Elements**

The LEP headquarters seemed unnaturally quiet as Holly and Trouble headed down the main corridor towards Root's door.

'Is it just me, or is everyone staring at me like I have a particularly nasty fungus growing out of my eyeballs?' Holly whispered to her companion.

'Well, you aren't exactly up to the dress code,' Trouble shrugged. Holly raised an eyebrow, but didn't said nothing.

As Trouble reached out to knock on the door of the Commander's office, Root pulled it open.

'Short!' he roared. 'IN!'

Holly sucked in air through her nose, her face automatically becoming pinched and closed, as her brain supplied her with arguments as to just why this wasn't her fault. Whatever 'this' was.

Root slammed the door in Trouble's face before rounding on Holly.

'Sir–' she began.

'Stow it, Short, we have to move fast. I don't have time for your feminist malarkey.'

Holly blinked.

Root took advantage of her momentary silence to wave his memo in her face. 'Do you know what this is, Short?'

'A memo, sir.'

'Oh, well done, Short. Yes, it's a memo.' Root smacked it down onto his desk, 'From the head of the LEP Investigations branch! And do you know what it says?'

'No, sir.'

'It says, that at nine this morning, Brísingamen was stolen from its case in Haven's Modern History museum. But wait, it gets better,' Root chewed his unlit cigar viciously as he circled Holly, hands clasped behind his back. 'A hair was found on the floor near the case. And a piece of cloth with a few flakes of skin was found snagged on a replica of the spear of Lug. And do you, Captain Short, know whose skin it was? Whose DNA those clever little Inspectors found?'

Holly had a sinking feeling in her stomach. 'Sir, you can't possibly mean ... that's ridiculous, you _know_–'

'Yes, I know. I know, that by the luckiest possible chance, I ran into you outside the gym at quarter to eight in the morning and that we were eating take-away until ten. But nobody else knows that. So do you realise what all those bright little buggers down in Investigations are thinking?'

'That I stole Freya's necklace?' Holly hazarded.

'I knew there was a reason I kept you on,' Root replied, scathingly. 'Now, the question is, how are we going to go about proving that it wasn't you? My testimony's all very well, but there's DNA evidence involved and everyone knows I've got a soft spot for you. Besides, it would hardly do your reputation any good: eating take-away with your commanding officer late into the evening? It won't do, Short, it won't do. '

Holly checked a bitter laugh. Touched as she was that Root was worried about her reputation, she wondered if there was enough left of it totarnish.

'Besides which,' Holly pointed out, 'if you back up my alibi, whoever actually did steal the necklace will dive for cover and we won't see hide nor hair of them this side of the century. If I go down for it, they'll feel like they've got away with the crime and, most likely, get careless.'

'Will they?' Root asked neutrally.

'Everyone always does, in the end. And when they do, I'll be there to catch them.'

'Not if you're rotting away in some cell, you won't be. But I take your point. Better if they feel safe.'

'Am I going to prison then, sir?'

'Obviously not, Short.'

'Then what'll we do?'

Root sighed and rubbed his temples. 'I don't know, Short. It pains me more than you'll ever know to say this but, right now, we could do with a brain like Fowl's.'

Holly said nothing. Root hadn't expected her to.

* * *

Holly went back out into the corridor, pleading the call of nature. Instead of turning right towards the washrooms, however, she went left, towards the Ops booth.

Foaly buzzed her in without a second thought. The two friends stared at each other for a moment before Holly spoke.

'It wasn't me, Foaly.'

'Duh,' the centaur replied, flicking the butt of his carrot into the compost disposal unit under his desk. 'What do I look like to you? A goblin? I'm not dumb, Holly.'

'Root doesn't know what to do.'

'That,' Foaly replied haughtily, 'is because he very nearly _is _a goblin.'

Holly narrowed her eyes. 'What aren't you telling me, Foaly? Do you know who set me up?'

'Not yet, but I can get you out of the line of fire.'

Holly blinked again. '... how?' she asked cautiously.

'We're going to smuggle you topside.'

Holly sat down rather suddenly on a nearby chair. 'Pardon me?'

'I've been thinking about this ever since Investigations' picked up your DNA. Don't look so surprised, did you really think I wouldn't keep tabs on all open investigations? You never know _who _could be planning a – '

'Yes, Foaly, alright, I got it,' Holly interrupted before she was treated to a lecture on exactly how many creatures were after Foaly and his magnificent brain.

'What? Oh, of course, so I've been thinking about this for a couple hours now, and I've come up with a fool-proof plan.'

'Oh yes?' Holly asked sceptically. She'd had dealings with fool-proof plans before. Somehow they always ended up a little less watertight than expected.

'Follow me.' Foaly gestured to the door, a decidedly Fowl-esque smile on his face.

* * *

**January 7****th****, 2011, Greensgate Lane, South Killingholme, England**

Mulch Diggums was enjoying an exfoliating mud-scrub when his doorbell rang.

'Classic,' he muttered. He didn't, however, get out of the tub. No one came to visit him here. Therefore, it was either a door-to-door salesman, a Jehovah's Witness, or Julius had finally tracked him down.

As it happens, it was none of the above.

The knocking came again. 'Package for Mr. Digence. Is anyone home?'

His mother always used to say, curiosity killed the LEP recruit. It was, thought Mulch as he shrugged into a dressing-gown and headed for the door, a good thing he wasn't an LEP recruit. His curiosity was definitely peaked - it was way too soon for a response to his letter. Apparently he should have made more attention to his horoscope: clearly this was a good week for correspondence.

The Fedex delivery man on the front stoop held out a clipboard. 'Mr. Digence? Please sign.' At his feet there was a large parcel roughly the size and shape of a laundry hamper. 'FRAGILE – DO NOT CRUSH' was pasted over it in six different languages.

Mulch signed the receipt.

* * *

**January 1****st ****– 2****nd****, 2011, Munich, Germany**

Artemis Fowl II's weekends were not spent in the usual way. After all, most seventeen-year-old boys who have spending money equal to a small country's GDP don't tend to spend their weekends drinking tea with their mothers Friday night and then quietly retiring to spend Saturday and Sunday breaking into a high security vault at the International Bank in Munich, Germany. But then Artemis had never been a usual boy.

Now thievery, like any other profession, has its legends. From Robin Hood to Arsène Lupin, there are stories aplenty to satisfy any and every heist enthusiast. However, underneath these there are other stories, less well known, but far more interesting to those actually involved in the profession.

One such story involved a French Impressionist painter called Pascal Hervé and his, until recently, missing sixteenth painting: _The Fairy Thief_. Artemis believed it may have been the recovery of _The Fairy Thief_, and its subsequent installation to the Louvre, which sparked his interest in another missing piece of artwork.

The _Stolen Kiss_ was an oil painting done by the Pre-Raphaelite painter Max Erhmann in 1888. The British painter was now known for his folkloric and Classically-inspired works, which were currently selling for upwards of 50 million euro apiece. Depicting a fairy stealing a kiss from a sleeping shepherd, the painting was, according to legend, stolen by the woman who modeled for the fairy, one Mary Crawford; who then, along with the painting, disappeared.

The painting eventually resurfaced in the early twentieth century, only to set off a string of burglaries that had it changing hands every three to five years, if the stories are to be believed. What all this meant - however - was that to steal the _Stolen Kiss_ was to be the best burglar of your generation. Not a challenge Artemis Fowl II was going to turn down.

So when, after three years of intermittent planning and six months of intensive research, espionage and blackmail, he discovered the painting's whereabouts in a safe-deposit box in Munich, it was more than he could possibly resist. After a long and arduous process, involving Butler's favourite alias, Colonel Xavier Lee; his supposed teenage lay-about son Alfonse; an extraordinarily uncomfortable pair of braces which where everything but braces; and a lot of extremely precise timing, Artemis and Butler found themselves back at their hotel room with what they presumed to be the _Stolen Kiss_ tucked safely away in Butler's briefcase.

When Artemis opened the Perspex tube and unfurled the painting, the _Stolen Kiss _stared back at him, beautifully preserved. However, Artemis soon realised that there was more than just canvas inside the tube. Wrapped in tissue and stuffed inside the roll of the painting, he discovered something entirely unexpected.

'Butler, old friend, look at what we've found.' Artemis held up what appeared to be part of a necklace. Butler's eyes widened. Attached to a short, broken gold chain, were two free-hanging opals set in rings of ornately worked gold.

'I've never heard of the painting coming with jewellery before,' said Butler, with remarkable calm.

'That makes two of us.' Artemis frowned at the enormous jewels. 'Well, I'm not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, if you'll pardon the vulgar expression.'

And with that, Artemis wrapped the bit of necklace back up and returned to his original prize. The opals could wait, the art was what mattered.


	2. Chapter 2

Short and sweet but Oh so speedily updated. This is _not _going to be a fanfic of SIACL proportions, I'm afraid. I don't know if I'll even break 25,000 words.

Just so's everyone's clear: yes, Artemis and Butler are still mind-wiped from the end of The Eternity Code. This is an AU shooting off about four years after TED, guaranteed to contain _absolutely _no Opal.

Heaps o' gratitude to Ilex-ferox, tireless beta.

* * *

**January 3****rd****, 2011, Operations Booth, Police Plaza, Haven City, The Lower Elements**

Commander Julius Root, for the second time in one day, nearly choked on his cigar.

'You sent her _where?_'

'Top. Side.' Foaly enunciated clearly and carefully, as though speaking to an idiot.

'Don't speak to me like I'm an idiot, Foaly. I heard you the first time.' Root held up a hand to cut short Foaly's inevitable smart-ass reply of "Then why'd you ask?", 'What I want to know is: _why in Frond's name did you do it?_ And I want to know right. Now.' He slammed his hand down on a handy desk for emphasis.

Foaly winced at how close the Commander came to crushing an extremely delicate piece of anti-gravity equipment. 'Because she'll be harder to catch up there. Besides, it's not like I just shot her up into the middle of a field with a blanket and lunch box, I sent her to someone who'll be able to help.'

Root breathed in noisily through his nose. 'Oh yes? And just _who _did you send her to?'

'We-ell ...'

* * *

**January 7****th****, 2011, Greensgate Lane, South Killingholme, England**

Mulch looked down at the inside of his parcel in patent disbelief. 'I don't remember buying you on Ebay,' he told the contents of the box.

It had taken him a good ten minutes to push and shove the parcel into the decaying interior of his homel. Now he knew why.

One squashed, tired, and thoroughly unhappy Holly Short glared up at him from her wrappings.

'Is this some kind of weird birthday gift?' Mulch asked. 'Because if it is, tell the centaur he's two months early. And that I like women with a bit more hair around here,' he waved vaguely towards his chin.

'Ha. Ha. Ha. In your dreams, Mulch Diggums.'

'Well, seeing as I'm pretty sure this may be a dream ...' Mulch waggled his eyebrows.

'Lucky for me this is nothing but cold, hard reality.' Holly pushed at Foaly's specialised air-pocket packaging, making a face. 'Help me out, would you? I think I've developed claustrophobia in the past four days.'

Once Holly was safely out of her box and sitting gingerly on one of Mulch's armchairs, sipping, equally gingerly, a mug of hot fungus cider, Mulch finally got his explanation.

It was a bit garbled as Holly wasn't exactly clear on the particulars herself. But she gave it her best shot, starting with the stolen necklace and her chance encounter with Root, and ending with Foaly's "fool-proof plan".

'So much for "fool-proof".' Holly pulled a face. 'I thought he meant some sort of jury-proof defence or new DNA evidence. Not a one way ticket to Compost-ville, Britain.' She gestured eloquently at Mulch's mouldy living room.

Mulch, meanwhile, was looking positively gleeful. 'So that's it, huh? You've come to beg good old Mulch for asylum, have you? Asking me to harbour a wanted felon, eh? (Holly let out a snort of disbelief) Typical, just typical. Bloody LEP can't do anything on their own.'

Holly looked down at her mug. 'I was actually hoping that maybe, while I was here, you might be interested in doing a little ... PI work with me. Unofficially, of course. I've had a lot of time to think, after all,' she jerked her chin towards her empty box.

A crafty smile spread beneath Mulch's beard. 'PI work you say? Would I be correct in assuming that by "PI work" you actually mean "recovering this all-powerful tart's family heirlooms on the sly and proving your innocence to all and sundry"?'

An equally crafty smile found its way onto Holly's face. 'Something like that. After all, you are such an expert when it comes to theft.'

'Flatterer,' Mulch waved a hand at her. 'What can I say? I like the way you think. Incidentally, I may know of someone who could help.'

Holly perked up. 'Really? Who?'

'Let's put it this way,' Mulch said, 'he's quite unforgettable.'

* * *

**January 6****th****, 2011, Fowl Manor, Dublin, Ireland**

It was not, upon returning home triumphant, what Artemis had been expecting to find waiting on his desk.

A simple envelope, with his address handwritten in blue ink, it was postmarked the 02.01.11, and sent from Britain. It seemed harmless enough and, technically, all post was checked at the door by a trained security guard. Nevertheless, to put off any post mortem "I told you so"s from Butler should the thing blow him to kingdom come, he ran it through his scanner and checked it for various chemical compounds. It came back negative.

Using an ornate ivory let-opener, he slit apart the envelope and shook the contents into his hand. A gold coin on leather thong, a mini-disk covered in smudged gold leaf and a slightly rumpled-looking, handwritten note. Artemis frowned, spreading the paper flat on his desk.

_Mud Boy,_

_Obviously you don't remember me. That's okay, I'm a nice guy, I'll forgive you. Just wanted you to know that your trick worked and I'm a free dwarf. Thought the time had come to return the favour. Included the necklace because she'd be pissed if you lost it. And so would you, once you remember it._

_Don't worry, I know this doesn't make any sense right now. But play the disk and it'll be clear as day._

_My number's on the back, call me. I've always wanted to turn over Fort Knox._

_Mulch_

_PS. I know you only gave me the mini disk but the real thing was just sitting there in your pocket. What can I say? I can't help myself. You'll thank me in the long run. You could've chucked it or something._

Artemis turned over the paper. Sure enough, a phone number was scrawled, nearly illegibly, across the back. Putting down the note, he picked up the necklace. There was definitely something familiar about it. The coin caught the light as it swung from its cord.

_So, thank you too, I suppose._

It was a woman's voice. He knew it, but didn't know it. Artemis' frown deepened. He didn't like not knowing.

Last, but not least, the mini-disk. An elaborate ploy to decimate his delicate network? Perhaps. Unfortunately, he was much too curious not to try it out.

Putting down the disk, he crossed the room to a cupboard. A moment of rummaging produced an old laptop. No longer connected to his network and totally void of useful information, it was the perfect vehicle for a potentially virulent mini-disk.

Artemis booted it up, plugging in a set of head phones and inserted the disk.

The disk opened a window containing three files. One was labelled "Artemis", the second "Butler", and the third "Juliet". He clicked on "Artemis". A third window appeared, and, as the screen cleared, he saw himself sitting in his room. But it wasn't quite himself: he was a few years younger and he looked tired.

'Hello,' said the Artemis on the screen, 'if you are – if I am, I suppose – watching this, it means my plan has worked and that Diggums has managed to return my memories to you. Us. Never mind. I'll try to be concise, there isn't much time. I'm sure you're curious as to what exactly is going on,' a brief, tight smile, 'so please, allow me to elucidate. Though, before I begin, I would like to briefly note what a pleasure it is to be able to explain myself to someone of equal intellectual prowess. I'm sure you, of all people, can sympathise with how tedious it is to have to dumb oneself down to the lowest common denominator.'

Rolling his eyes, Artemis sighed. Was he still that long-winded?

'Oh, and one final thing before I begin my explanation, in the event that you doubt that I am, in fact, a recording of your 13 year-old self, I would just like to remind you of the incident with the jam cookies and that awful terrier the cook used to keep. You do remember don't you?'

Artemis winced. Unfortunately, he did.

* * *

Two hours later a shell-shocked and confused Artemis Fowl almost toppled out of his room. 'Butler!' he called down the corridor. 'Butler, come quickly!'

The manservant flew around a nearby corner, Sig Sauer at the ready. When he saw no hulking kidnappers or would-be assassins, he paused, eyeing Artemis. 'What's the matter?'

'I need ...' Artemis paused, thinking. Abruptly, he shrugged. 'I would like you to see something.'

Butler always did as he was told.

* * *

Butler and Artemis sat across from each other.

Butler took a deep breath. 'You could phone the number.'

'Yes, I could.'

'It ... do you ...' Butler swallowed. 'Do you remember?'

Artemis licked his lips. 'Yes,' he said.

'Me too.'

'I suppose I should call, then.'

'Yes.'


	3. Chapter 3

I will have this posted before next Monday! I will, I will!

Also, I would just like to take a minute here and point out that, hints though there might be, there's is absolutely 100% no romance in this story. Aren't you proud of me? Go on, you know you are. I'm a recovering addict, I am...

Ilex-ferox rocks my socks.

* * *

**January 7****th****, 2011, Greensgate Lane, South Killingholme, England**

Holly eyed Mulch over her barely-touched mug of cider. 'You don't mean who I think you mean.' She paused, 'Do you?'

'Well, I dunno. Who do you mean? I'm talking about a pale, scrawny human about 5 foot 7, weighing in at an unhealthy nine stone, bags under his eyes like a middle aged office worker.'

'I'm talking about Artemis.'

'Yeah, that's who I said, innit?'

'Mulch,' Holly's voice was repressive, 'Artemis has been wiped. He has no memory of us.'

'Well, technically speaking ...' Mulch cleared his throat, 'to be perfectly precise, he may have planted something on yours truly thus enabling him to–'

'Trigger complete memory recall,' Holly finished for him.

'In a manner of speaking.'

'Mulch, you didn't.' The look on Holly's face was a mixture of agony and hilarity.

The dwarf looked rather proud of himself.

'When?'

'Last weekend. Didn't know, of course, that you would be landing on my doorstep so soon afterwards but, all in all, I think that's for the best. What can I say? My mother always said I had impeccable timing.'

'I can't believe you, Diggums. You are in so-o much trouble if the Council ever catches you.' She smiled. 'Thank you. Thank you so much. If anyone can get us out of this, it's Artemis.'

'Excuse me? Us? Honey, this is all you. For once I kept my fingers to myself.'

'I suppose there's a first time for everything,' Holly shot back.

Mulch grinned, unrepentant. 'I've got something else for you, you want to hear it?'

'What is it?' Holly raised wary eyebrows.

Going over to the supposed dinner table, Mulch rifled through a mess of dirty dishes and paperback mystery novels until he found his mobile. Scrolling through the call history, he selected a message and held the phone out to Holly. 'He asked after you.'

Tentatively holding the mobile to one pointed ear, Holly's eyes widened as she recognised the voice.

"Mr. Diggums, I presume? It's Artemis. Artemis Fowl. I suppose it goes without saying that I have received your letter. It was quite ... ah ... informative. Thanks are in order, apparently. You have done me a great service."

There was a change in tone; more self-assured.

"I hate to presume,' A snort from Holly, 'but would you mind meeting me for tea, say, tomorrow or sometime this weekend, perhaps, to discuss possible, mm, business ventures? I should think the time more than ripe for a cooperative effort from us. However, business aside, it would be nice to ..."

A pause. Another change in tone.

"It would be nice to re-establish contact. I do hope that ... that my erstwhile companions are still as ... boisterous as ever, and that Ho– that Captain Short is in good health. I would ask you to pass on my regards, but I fear that would have unpleasant consequences. I look forward to hearing from you, Mulch."

Holly handed back the phone.

Mulch grinned at her. 'So, Ho– Captain Short, how are you feeling? In good health?'

'Look here, convict–'

'Oooh, be careful there, Holly; takes one to know one!'

Holly inhaled sharply through her nose, swearing that she would hide that precious tinfoil hat of Foaly's somewhere he'd never, ever, find it.

* * *

**January 7****th****, 2011, Fowl Manor, Dublin, Ireland**

Artemis sat in a heavily embroidered William Morris armchair: his elbows on the oak desk before him, his fingers steepled, his lips resting on his index fingers. Through the tall, stained glass windows of his study, he watched the rain whip through the willow trees that bordered his mother's new water feature. He was also, though it didn't show, thinking furiously.

His mind was operating on several levels. One, the most practical, was rapidly listing various museums, library archives, banks and corporate headquarters which he could, with his new acquaintance, gain entrance to.

The second level, less practical but more concrete, was busy detailing all the possible ways for this to be an elaborate hoax. It was, surprisingly (though to no one but itself), finding this rather difficult. His younger self had explained everything, from those mystery mirrored contact lenses to the CCTV network Artemis did not remember setting up in the old, equally unremembered basement cell.

A third was still churning through his new memories, separating them into digestible morsels, ready to be psycho-analysed, categorised and filed away for further reference.

A fourth was trying to cope with the melting pot of emotions that had been giving him indigestion for nearly twenty-four hours now.

Artemis had always prided himself on being a man apart. He cared for precious few people. His mother. His father. Butler, he supposed. Maybe even Juliet, Butler's gadfly sister; if only because Juliet was simply too_ alive_ not to elicit some sort of emotional response from everyone and anyone.

Four people. Two of whom loved him because he was their child: the bond between them purely biological, their love a result of evolution and the desire to see their offspring succeed in life. Butler – well - Butler was his employee. Artemis wouldn't lie and say that the hulking Eurasian didn't care for his charge, or vice versa, but it was still a friendship built on a master-servant relationship. Hardly voluntary. And Juliet, well, even a corpse would find her endearing, in an exasperating sort of way. Artemis did allow, however, that his fondness for Juliet could be a by-product of his natural (if severely repressed) hormones. Though, he could say, with complete honesty, that his regard for Juliet was wholly platonic; especially since she had taken to wearing those ridiculous wrestling outfits.

Now, however, he realised that there were people he did care for and who - well, two at least, it could be argued - cared for him. Not only that, he realised that his attachment to Butler, even to Juliet, was much deeper than he had thought. The idea of Butler lying dead ...

Artemis shuddered, shunting that particular memory to the side.

The real conundrum was, he decided, that, after all these years of cultivating a distinct disdain for his fellow creatures, he found himself wanting to believe all of these new memories. They gave him access to people he hadn't even known he missed, access to a _him_ that he hadn't known he missed.

He badly wanted, he discovered, to see the People again.

The rain was dying down, drops sliding down the leaded panes of his windows. The howling sound of the wind faded away. Artemis sat for a moment, enjoying the absence of noise.

He jumped, banging his shins, when the sound of his mobile broke the silence.

* * *

**January 3****rd****, 2011, Operations Booth, Police Plaza, Haven City, The Lower Elements**

Root's fingers were drumming a tattoo on one of Foaly's stainless steel desks.

'Can you keep in contact with her?' he asked at last.

'Mm, more or less,' Foaly replied. 'I can put calls through to a messaging service, where she and Mulch can pick them up. Pretty much untraceable, unless Investigations know Mulch's above ground mobile number, which, by the way, they don't. And that's if they realise Mulch is involved which, once again–'

'They don't. I get it, Foaly, you're terribly clever.'

The centaur preened. 'Well, I don't want to toot my own horn or anything, but ...'

'You? No, never!' said Root, not bothering to hide his sarcasm.

* * *

**January 7****th****, 2011, Fowl Manor, Dublin, Ireland**

'Fowl speaking,' Artemis answered his mobile.

There was a guffaw on the other end. 'Right back at you, Artemis,' said Mulch. 'I got your message.'

'Mulch. Excellent. I don't suppose–'

'There's been a complication.'

Artemis frowned. 'What kind of complication?'

'A small, highly-strung, and very violent one,' Mulch replied. Artemis thought he could make out an indignant shout in the background.

'I'm afraid I don't follow.'

'Your favourite LEP Captain arrived on my doorstep this afternoon. She's on the run from the law. Ironic, no?'

'_Holly? _But that's preposterous!' He paused, then asked, 'Was it for speeding?'

Mulch laughed. 'You've only remembered her for a day and already you talk like you know her! You're right of course, it's ridiculous. Though she claims she didn't do it.'

Another indignant shout.

'Just what exactly is it that she didn't do?'

'Rob a museum of some fairy gold. And, seeing as that's rather your specialty, I thought perhaps ...?'

'That I could be of assistance.'

'Exactly. Now, don't get me wrong, I'd much rather be tunnelling a lot of jewels out of Buckingham Palace, but Holly's got just such a cute little face, you know? How can you say no to a face like that? Not to mention such a fantastic right hook.'

Artemis smiled. He lifted his fingers to his face in bemusement, feeling the strange new lines of his mouth. 'I think you mean the Tower of London,' he said, buying time to compose himself.

'What?'

'You'd rather be tunnelling jewels out of the Tower of London, that's were all the particularly good pieces are. Not to mention a fair few ravens.'

'Huh, you don't say. Jewels and a light lunch. Now there's an offer if ever I heard one.'

Artemis' smile grew. 'Mulch ... may I ... may I speak with her?'

Mulch laughed, not at all thrown by the sudden change of topic. 'Sure.'

A short pause and the sound of the phone changing hands.

He could hear her breathing but he waited for her to speak.

After a moment, she did. 'Artemis?' Her voice was quiet.

'I'm afraid so.'

A half-chuckle. 'It's good to hear your voice again, Mud Boy.'

'The same to you, Captain.'

A swallow. 'Will you help me, Fowl?'

'Dear me, the cop coming to the robber for help. There's so much irony here, I could write a poem,' he quoted.

He could hear her breathe in sharply through her nose, getting ready for a fight. He let his head fall back, resting on the armchair. Her anger and frustration comforted him: it felt like a home-coming.

'Of course I'll help you,' he waited a beat, 'Holly.'

It was incredible, really, what mobile phones picked up these days. Across several hundred kilometres, Artemis swore he could hear the elf smile.

* * *

Two hours later one exhilarated elf, and one very disgruntled dwarf, landed on Artemis' balcony. Butler opened the French windows to let them in.

'Butler!' Holly unclipped a green-tinged Mulch from her belt and launched herself at the big man.

Unhesitatingly, the bodyguard scooped her up, giving her a bone-crushing hug.

'You remember me!' Holly grinned at him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Mulch struggled to his feet, coughing. 'Hey, what am I? Chopped goblin? Don't I get some love?'

'Not on that shower regime, you don't.' Butler told him, setting Holly down and clapping an enormous hand on the dwarf's shoulders. Mulch could have sworn he heard his kneecaps crack.

'I just bathed!' he argued.

'Yes,' Holly nodded solemnly, 'it was his traditional one bath of the year. A sacred event.'

Over Mulch's protests, she caught Artemis' eye and winked. The boy held out his hand to her. She walked towards him, looked at his proffered hand and raised an eyebrow. Butler and Mulch went quiet.

Without a word she fell forward, hugging him tight. 'You've grown,' she accused, her words muffled by his shirt.

He shrugged, letting his arms settle on her shoulders, 'I'm afraid I had a growth spurt during my sixteenth year.'

Holly sighed, breaking away from him. 'I'm sorry I missed that.'

He nodded. 'There wasn't much choice.'

'Are you – are you angry with me?' she asked. On the flight over she had nearly chewed through her lip: worrying that he would blame her, that he would hold her responsible for his memory loss. Very deep down, she felt as though she should have prevented it. Which was silly because, of course, they hadn't even been friends, had they? Not really. And yet here they were, hugging like long-lost family ...

She realised, then, just how much she had missed Artemis Fowl and Butler.

'Angry?' Artemis paused, thinking. 'No. I accepted the terms. I knew it was coming. I can hardly blame Commander Root for wanting to protect his citizens.'

Holly nodded, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

'Well, I don't know about you guys, but all this lovey-dovey stuff really makes me hungry. How about you show me the extent of your undying gratitude, Artemis, and introduce me to your fridge?'

Artemis wanted to feel irritated by the dwarf's brashness. Instead, he found himself laughing.

'All right; but then we must get down to business,' he warned.

'Whatever you say, Mud Boy.'

* * *

A roast chicken, three heads of broccoli, a salmon and two pints of organic ice cream later, they did get down to business. However, they didn't get far before:

'Wait, stop a moment. Holly, you're being accused of stealing _Brísingamen?_' Artemis repeated incredulously.

'That's what I said, isn't it?' Holly frowned. 'Freya lost it to the banks in the divorce and then it disappeared for about two and a half thousand years until–'

'What divorce?' Artemis interrupted again.

Holly sighed. 'I'm going to have to start at the very beginning, aren't I?'

'No,' said Artemis, irked by her school-teacher tone. 'I know who Freya was and I know the story of Brísingamen.'

'Well, I don't,' Butler pointed out.

'All right,' Holly held up her hands to forestall further interruptions, 'Freya is, according to human legend, the Norse Goddess of beauty, fertility, war and wealth. She's also one of the Valkyrie but, like the LEP, that's just a job. Of course, she isn't exactly a goddess, just a member of the Frond family. She comes from really old blood which is the reason she's still around today. And, to be fair to the Scandinavians, she's certainly beautiful, fertile and wealthy. Not to mention she has a temper to match Root's. As to the divorce, she and her husband Odin finally gave up the ghost around ... well, by your calendar, the 1990s, right after he caught her in bed with Loki. At least, according to the tabloids, that is. Of course, Odin was hardly monogamous himself. Anyway, Freya lost Brísingamen to pay for her lawyers. She may still be alive and kicking but, sadly, her money's not. The necklace disappeared for, as I said, quite a while, until, just last month, it was rediscovered in a warehouse of illegal imports during an LEP raid. It was put into the Haven Museum of Modern History because, technically, it no longer has an owner. All clear?'

'Er,' began Butler, 'well, what exactly _is _Brísingamen?'

The two fairies stared at him in disbelief.

'What planet are you _from_, anyway?' asked Mulch, dumbfounded.

Artemis answered the question. 'If the human legends are correct, it's a necklace. Made by four dwarf brothers for Freya. It was supposed to make her irresistible. In return, she had to spend a night with each of the four dwarves–'

'Which didn't help her marriage, I'm sure,' interjected Mulch.

'No doubt,' Artemis continued. 'Its name means "flaming ornament", _Brísinga _being –'

'So it's flaming necklace?' Butler interrupted. 'Wouldn't that be kind of uncomfortable?'

'Well, it's not actually on fire, _per se,_' said Holly. 'It's made of gold, see, with eight opals hanging from the chain. Opals, flaming, you know. Though, for a while, there was a rumour that it was made with amber,' she added as an afterthought.

'Opals,' repeated Artemis slowly.

'Yes, Artemis, opals.' Holly shot him a speculative look. Then, in a resigned sort of way, she asked, 'What do you know, Mud Boy?'

'Could one of you, by any chance, draw the necklace for me?'

Since Mulch had never been a deft hand with a pencil, Holly did the honours on a nearby notepad.

Butler caught his breath. Artemis frowned.

'Well,' he said, turning to his bodyguard, 'that is interesting.'

'Interesting is certainly one word for it,' Butler agreed. 'You had better show them.'

Artemis nodded and went upstairs to fetch the fragment of necklace he and Butler had inadvertently stolen from a safe-deposit box in Munich, two days earlier.


	4. Chapter 4

Alright, here's another one, a bit longer! Hurrah, hurrah!

And hurrah a third time for Ilex-ferox!

* * *

**January 7****th****, 2011, Fowl Manor, Dublin, Ireland**

Flabbergasted, Holly stared at the jewels in her hand. 'But ... how?' she managed at last.

'Accidentally, if you must know. It was hidden inside a painting I was stealing.'

Holly lay the opals down with a groan. 'Why am I not surprised?' she asked the ceiling.

'What painting?' Mulch asked, his fingers inching towards the necklace.

'The _Stolen Kiss_ by Erhmann,' Artemis replied, watching as Mulch's index finger brushed the gold chain. A moment later he winced as, quite casually, Holly slammed her palm onto Mulch's unsuspecting digits. She hadn't even bothered looking down.

'Could we see it?' the elf asked, unruffled.

'Er ... yes, yes of course.' Artemis replied, watching her hands warily. 'We might as well go back up to my rooms, before someone sees you two.'

As Holly and Mulch vied for space on his study's sofa, Artemis brought out the painting. Delicately, he spread it out on the low coffee table for the other three to see.

'Wo-ah,' breathed Mulch, 'talk about coincidence.'

'What do you mean?' asked Butler.

'That's Freya,' said a wide-eyed Holly, pointing to the sleeping shepherdess. 'I'd bet the world's last acorn on it.'

'Impossible,' Artemis frowned. 'The model's name was Mary Crawford, it's on record. She and Erhmann were having an affair. When it ended, she stole the painting from his studio and sold it to a private collector.'

'She could have been calling herself the Earl of Rochester for all I care, she was still Freya,' Holly replied, shrugging.

'Are you absolutely positive?' Artemis pressed.

'Positively,' quipped Mulch. 'Holly's right, Artemis, no doubt about it. Frond knows, she's been plastered over enough billboards. You'd have to be blind.'

'Who did you steal this painting from?' Holly asked.

'A bank,' replied Artemis, unable to help himself.

'From a safe-deposit box belonging to Heyer's Antiques and Rarities, a London antique dealership owned by one Zoë Matthews,' Butler elucidated, before Holly could punch his unhelpful charge.

'Zoë Matthews. Do you know anything about her?' Holly tapped her fingers on her lips.

'She's ninety-two, and looks it. Inherited the business from her mother fifty years ago, apparently orchestrated the theft of the _Stolen Kiss_ from a private collection in Tel Aviv, and still works in the company's shop just off the Portobello Road,' Artemis enumerated on his fingers.

'Well, we're just going to have to pay her a visit, then, aren't we? Because if this is her safe-deposit box, how the d'Arvit did a quarter of Brísingamen get into it? And, more importantly, where's the rest of the bloody necklace?' Holly asked no-one in particular.

These were all good questions, thought Artemis. And, for once, he had no idea.

Unnoticed, Mulch shifted uneasily in his seat.

* * *

**January 3****rd****, 2011, Operations Booth, Police Plaza, Haven City, The Lower Elements**

Root stood behind Foaly, glaring at the screens in front of him.

'Er ... Julius, do you have to hover like that?'

'You sent her to _Mulch_. The only way we have to contact her is leaving messages in some kind of Neanderthal electronic post box. We have no idea where the two of them are. Does she even have equipment with her? We don't even know if she _got _to Mulch. Do you _know_ how unreliable Human post is? On top of it all, you did all this without my permission. You should be grateful I'm only hovering,' Root pulled a cigar out of his pocket, biting off the end with eloquent violence. 'And don't call me Julius!'

Foaly sighed, shoulders slumping, resigned to being deaf in at least one ear by the end of the night.

* * *

**January 7****th****, 2011, Fowl Manor, Dublin, Ireland**

As Butler made Mulch one last, parting, sandwich before they headed to London, Artemis watched Holly pack up her wing rig. After a moment of silent contemplation, he had to ask.

'Captain?'

'Yes, Artemis?' Holly didn't look up from adjusting her straps.

'I've got a – no, I have two questions. Firstly, ... ah, why do you appear to be wearing your pyjamas? And, secondly, if you were expelled forcibly from Haven, why have you got a wing rig and camfoil?'

Holly shrugged. 'Trouble didn't give me time to change before he took me down to Police Plaza - you have no idea how glad I am I put on sweatpants not boxers - and Foaly kitted me out with wings and a full Recon equipment bag when he stuffed me into that box. Helmets and suits, however, are signed out to officers permanently; they aren't just left lying about. Which is a pain because it means I have to fly lower – easier said than done, with a dwarf swinging from my belt loops.'

'Why do you need to fly lower?'

'Well, wind abrasion and chill factor, for one thing, but also because the suits regulate our oxygen intake and prevent things like altitude sickness. If I were to fly as high as I would normally, without being in my suit, I wouldn't have enough air to breathe and the risk of High Altitude Cerebral Edema would go through the roof.' She smiled self-consciously, 'Listen to me, I sound like a talking data-pad. They drilled this into us every day during flight-training. Even civilians have special gear. You can't buy a pair of wings but you hear that lecture from the sales-clerk.'

'I see.' Another question occurred to him. 'Speaking of breathing, how on earth did you manage to in that box for a week?'

'In great discomfort, that's how,' Holly replied, showing a distinct lack of appreciation at having spent four days as post. She relented, explaining, 'Foaly put me in one of his Fish Bowls.'

'... fish bowls?'

'Right. Sorry, I keep forgetting you're not bang up to date anymore. A Fish Bowl is kind of like a personal bubble. I'm not sure how it works - something to do with anti-gravity and some kind of underwater fungi, I think - but you pop yourself in and you've got oxygen for up to a week straight without replenishing. However, after about three days it gets pretty gross, believe me, there's a definite after taste of fish-innards. Though, to be fair, it did suck in new air every time it got the chance, which is why I didn't smell like something regurgitated by a whale when I arrived at Mulch's.

Other than that, it's pretty darn handy: if it gets crushed, dropped or otherwise abused, it just bounces off the opposing force, keeping the occupant safe. There's even a small waste management system for, er, longer stays. Don't ask me how it works, I specifically told Foaly I didn't want to know. At any rate, Fish Bowls are becoming all the rage for underwater holidays; the boys in Atlantis are up to their eyebrows in accidental sightings by Mud Man scuba divers. You think Recon has it tough with above ground runners, you should _see _the Retrieval unit for Atlantis. Total nightmare, I tell you.'

Artemis nodded solemnly. 'Sounds dreadful,' he managed, with only the barest hint of a smile.

'All set!' Mulch announced himself, licking mustard from his fingers as he came through the door.

Holly grimaced, 'With the amount of food you've eaten tonight, Mulch, it's a good thing we're going in the jet – I wouldn't have been able to carry you on the wings.'

'Are you calling me fat, Holly? I'm hurt!' Mulch pressed a hand to his heart. 'And after all I've done for you today, too. Huh, just like a woman! Serves me right for opening the door in the middle of my bath. Frond, I should have listened to my mother.'

Over the dwarf's head Artemis and Holly frowned at each other, both mouthing the word 'What?'.

* * *

**January 8****th****, 2011, London, England**

London was grey and chilly in the early morning light and Holly shivered, despite the fact that she was vibrating too fast to be seen – and nestled inside a toasty-warm back seat. Silently, she sat between Butler and Artemis in the taxi from London City Airport to Claridge's, watching the grimy cityscape pass by. _At least_, she thought, _I'm not in the boot, unlike Mulch._

Mulch had not been impressed when, ten minutes from landing, Artemis had informed him that he would be smuggled into their hotel in the luggage. It had taken them the remaining flight time to squash the protesting dwarf – and all his hair – into the suitcase.

As they passed the doorman (who, luckily, bid them "Welcome to Claridge's", which was good enough for Frond's enchantment), Holly caught her breath. The front hall was huge. Despite being shielded, she tiptoed behind Artemis and Butler, certain that her no-scuff LEP boots were echoing off the shiny checkerboard floor. Glancing at her companions, she was peeved to see they didn't even look twice at their surroundings.

In the lift, Artemis and Butler stood side by side, hands clasped lightly in front of them, faces impassive, acting for all the world as though their fellow passengers were not giving Artemis' luggage looks of horror.

'Did you hear that?' a child whispered to her grandmother. 'It groaned!'

'Shh!' The older woman hushed the girl, not wanting to get involved with groaning luggage.

It didn't help that coming from thin air was the unmistakable sound of snickering.

* * *

'So glad to see that the two of you can act your age,' Artemis snapped at Holly and the newly-liberated Mulch. 'Snickering and groaning! As though this were some amateur production of A Christmas Carol. For goodness sake!'

Not that either Holly or Mulch looked even vaguely apologetic. Holly went so far as to completely ignore him: exploring the suite while he spoke and exclaiming things, 'Ooh, bubble bath!' throughout his diatribe.

Artemis pinched the bridge of his nose.

'Are you done, Artemis?' Holly stuck her head around the bathroom door, 'Because I've been stuck in a box for half a week and would really like to have a shower.'

'Oh no, feel free,' Artemis waved a hand at her, 'don't hold back on my account. Why should what I have to say be of any importance whatsoever?'

'Well,' shrugged Holly, grinning, 'I wouldn't want to be rude.'

Artemis threw her a disgusted look, which became even more disgusted when she just laughed at him.

'Before you get in the tub,' Butler interjected, 'I brought these for you. Thought maybe you wouldn't want to spend another week in those clothes.' He held out a neatly folded shirt and trousers.

'Butler, now, when he speaks, he really says something worth listening to,' Holly winked at Artemis.

'What did I tell you?' Mulch threw up his hands, 'Women! Nothing but ingratitude, Artemis my boy, take it from me.'

'Mulch, having a mother does not make you an expert on the female gender,' Holly pointed out scathingly, as she stepped forward to take the clothes from Butler. 'Thanks, Butler. You have no idea how much I appreciate this.'

Artemis turned to Mulch. 'You open your house to her. I endeavour to clear her name - at great personal expense. But she thanks _him _for a few _clothes?_'

Butler shrugs, 'What can I say? I've always had a way with the ladies.'

Snorting with laughter, Holly retreated to the bathroom.

* * *

The clothes fitted a little oddly, they seemed to be leftover from Artemis' childhood. She tucked the tails of her shirt into the waistband of the grey flannel trousers, thinking that these were probably the best-made clothes she'd ever worn. _Poor things probably aren't used to such rough treatment,_ she thought, as she stuffed her feet back into her boots, wrinkling the trousers.

Mulch raised his bushy eyebrows when she emerged. 'Well, that's a little creepy,' he said, giving her outfit a once over. 'What'll it be next? You two gonna start swapping eyeballs?'

Holly swatted at him playfully before striking a pose, 'How do I look?'

'Like you're going to need a belt.'

'Gee, thanks, Mulch.'

'I try.'

'So,' the elf pulled herself up onto the desk, 'what's the plan, Artemis?'

'I'm sure I don't know. I wouldn't want to bore you with my excessive pontificating.'

Holly sighed. 'I'm very, very sorry that I didn't listen when you were speaking. You're a wonderful, brilliant, little child genius. My favourite ever, in fact. Now, what's the plan?'

'Could that be because I'm the _only _child genius you know?'

'That's a distinct possibility,' Holly admitted. 'Though even if I did know others, I'm sure you'd still be my favourite. No one else twists the truth quite like you do, Artemis. It's a gift.'

'You're too kind.'

'Probably,' Holly agreed.

'If you two are quite finished?' Butler interrupted the banter, wanting to get in a quick nap before they had to leave again.

Artemis thought briefly that he and Holly Short would probably never be finished insulting each other, but didn't mention it out loud. Instead, he said, 'The shops won't be open for a few hours yet, I advise that we all take advantage of this and sleep while we can. After breakfast, Butler and I will go down to Heyer's, ostensibly searching for a gift for my mother. Holly, while we are in the shop go round the back, if you can, and have a look around. I doubt we'll be able to get you permission to enter, but you may see something of interest through the upper windows. Mulch, I'm afraid you'll be on standby. If we discover something that needs thieving, you can go in after dark. This is reconnaissance only.'

'How fitting,' Holly said, as Mulch executed a sloppy LEP salute.

'Well,' Butler clapped his hands together, 'you heard the man: I want everyone lying down with their eyes closed, ASAP. I'm too old for these late nights.'

Grumbling, the fairies went off to claim various pieces of furniture. Momentarily, Mulch considered fighting Holly for the spare bed, but quickly decided the couch wouldn't be so bad.

* * *

**January 8****th****, 2011, Claridge's Hotel, ****London, England**

Luckily, midday in London was just as grey and dismal as early morning. Even so, Holly flinched as she stepped out onto the pavement. She had decided to conserve her magic (she had a feeling she would be needing it later on), and was walking in plain sight with Artemis and Butler. Her wings were stashed in her rucksack, whose strap kept slipping on the slick material of her jacket. Irritably, she hiked it back up her shoulder, stifling a yawn.

'My thoughts exactly,' Butler told her, as she raised a hand to cover her mouth.

Artemis _tsk_ed as he hailed a taxi. 'You two are supposed to be professionals.'

'My contract has a 'pre-caffeine' clause,' Holly informed him loftily. 'I only need to be professional after a couple of dozen cups of sim-coffee. Before that, I can't be held responsible for my actions.'

'How useful,' Artemis agreed, laughing as he climbed into the taxi.

The Portobello Road was crowded despite the dreary weather. Butler developed a twitch in his left eyelid after a hundred metres from trying to keep his eye on Artemis, Holly, and all the tourists. Artemis wasn't helping matters by walking around, his nose firmly an A-Z, not looking where he was going. It was with immense relief that Butler, at last, steered them around a corner and into a quieter cul-de-sac.

'It's that one there, on the left,' Artemis finally extricated himself from his map of London and waved a hand towards one of the nondescript little pawn shops.

'I'll see you guys in a bit, then?' Holly tilted her head back, clearly charting her route up the face of the building.

'Yes.' Artemis waited a beat, then said, 'You know, there's an alley leading into the back courtyard just past the electronics shop.' He pointed to a storefront further down the street whose front window boasted an enormous mechanical dinosaur.

'I knew that,' Holly lied, walking away with her nose in the air.

'Of course you did,' Artemis smiled to himself.

Inside the shop things were piled higgledy-piggledy: crockery stacked inside old enamelled pots, balancing on teak cabinets and ratty divans. Before he was three feet from the door, Artemis had counted two fake Chippendales and a clever copy of a Louis XIV writing table; he had to admit, though, that the scroll-work was quite ingenious.

'Hello?' Butler called into the cluttered gloom. 'Anyone here?'

Silence was their only answer so, with a shrug and an anticipatory smile, the two made their way towards the rear of the shop.

Meanwhile, Holly had skirted the electronics shop, and, after a difficult bit of balancing, had managed to climb up a skip and onto the fire escape. Following the rusty ladder up to the narrow balcony, Holly made her way along the back of the shops counting doors until she reached Heyer's. The wooden door was locked but the window next to it was ajar. Out of a morbid sense of curiosity, Holly lifted the pane and slid into the darkened room. Even before her feet touched the dusty floor she was expecting nausea and retching.

She landed without difficulty, however, and, straightening up, discovered she felt perfectly fine. Frowning at this unexpected turn of events, she eyed the room with deep misgiving, glowering at each piece of furniture in turn as though expecting it to come to life and bludgeon her to death; filing cabinets, desk, chair, open skylight - that got a particularly intense glare - bookshelf, hat-stand, all perfectly motionless and ordinary. Holly pursed her lips. _Something _wasn't right. Unable to put her finger or, more importantly, her gun on the problem, Holly shrugged, heading to the desk and the papers that littered its top. But even as she sifted through bank statements and receipts her muscles quivered, ready to run, and her ears strained, listening for the smallest sound.

Suddenly, in the hall, she heard the soft thump of approaching footsteps. Holly froze, calculating. The footsteps got louder. Two sets. Probably men. Without another thought, Holly hopped onto the desk, standing on the heavy, decade-old IBM monitor to reach up and haul herself out through the skylight.

Flattening herself onto the roof, she cocked her head to hear the voices the footsteps had been carrying towards her. She had been right: men. The door opened below her and she heard quite clearly:

' – a bit odd that no one is here. I was expecting a cashier at least.'

With a self-disgusted sigh, Holly blew her fringe out of her eyes, swinging herself back through the skylight to land lightly on the floor in front of a very surprised Artemis and Butler.

'You're inside,' Artemis said.

'Thinking of getting your mother a bit of filing for a gift?' Holly countered.

'There was no one downstairs.' Artemis shrugged, unrepentant.

'The window was open so I tried it, couldn't resist giving it a go, and nothing happened,' Holly's turn to shrug, just as unremorseful. 'No vomiting, no nothing.'

'Really?' Artemis frowned. 'How interesting. However, as no one seems to be–'

'Scratch that, Artemis, someone is coming.' Butler stood with his ear to the door, Sig Sauer at the ready. 'We need to hide.'

Holly was already on the desk again. 'Come on, Mud Boy, up here with me. Butler, go through the back door. It's locked, but it's just a deadbolt, they shouldn't notice.' Without a backward glance, the elf clambered back through the skylight.

Artemis hesitated, eyeing the IBM with misgivings. Crossing the floor in two strides, Butler picked up his charge and shoved him bodily through the hole. Sniggering, Holly grabbed Artemis' shirt, yanking him up with her as he scrabbled at the tiles. Below them, Butler passed through the back door, silent as a ghost.

Just as Artemis' left loafer disappeared from sight, the door opened once more, letting in two female voices.

'- was an idiot to even think you could pull something like this off. Whatever on earth possessed you to frame that crazy dyke is beyond me! Now we'll have Julius on our backs on top of everything else. Everybody knows he's got a thing for her. This is a complete disaster.'

There was a thump as someone flung themselves into a chair.

'Holly isn't a lesbian, Auntie.'

A pause. Then, in an aggrieved tone, the first voice said, 'Once again, Lili, you are _completely missing the point._'

'Well, I just wanted to–'

'I don't care what you want. You stole a fake! You lost Brísingamen to those nasty little dwarves! You don't get to want.'

'Well, I don't see why you're so angry about Holly, you're the one who told me to do it.'

'_I _told you to – _when _under the _earth _did I ask you to frame that mud-loving lunatic?'

Artemis watched Holly's jaw clench and unclench. He could only assume that "mud-loving" was a particularly offensive remark. He didn't have to think very hard to figure out what, or perhaps whom, it could refer to.

'You said to make it look-'

'I said to make it look like it wasn't me, as I am a prime candidate for stealing it. I didn't mean frame your co-worker. Please, Lili, enlighten me: what were you thinking? Or were you simply _not_?'

'I _was _thinking. I had to time it with her workouts, didn't I? There's a promotion coming up, at work, and rumour has it that it's going to be one of us. The LEP is trying to give its image a facelift.'

'And you thought that framing Holly Short would get you the job?' The voice was acerbic, 'Yes, Lili, a foolproof plan, by all means. Frond, what has happened to this family?'

'Auntie, that's hardly-'

'Shush, girl, we've more important things to talk about than your sad attempts at office politics. Such as: if you saw the dwarves, why didn't you think to _stop them_?'

'Well, I didn't know they had stolen, did I? After all, I went in, put down the fake evidence got the necklace and got out. It wasn't until we looked at it together that I realised it was a face. Besides, if I'd just broken into the museum, I'm not exactly in a position to go up to someone else wandering around after hours and ask them what they're doing there. And anyway ... well ...' There was a shuffling sound, presumably Lili scuffing the floor with her shoes. 'Dvalina and I ... she's ...'

'Oh Frond, you're not friends with those four are you? Do you know what their fathers _did _to me?'

'They didn't _do _anything to you, Auntie, you were paying them for their work. Don't act so hard done by. You could have said no.'

'"Could have said no"? Child, did you not see Brísingamen? How could I say no to that? And those filthy little dwarves knew I couldn't. It served Alfrigg right, dying of syphilis like that. Don't let me ever hear you refer to those dwarves, or their offspring, favourably in my presence again, do you understand? I will not tolerate a friendship between you and one of them.'

'Well,' Lili's voice was snippy, 'it's just as well that I'm not then. Dvalina's not just my _friend_, Auntie Freya. Or, at least, she wasn't. She dumped me for some sprite from Atlantis.'

Silence. An exaggerated gagging sound.

'Lili. Lili, why do you say things like that? Has that ghastly police camp affected your mind? I'm phoning your father, young lady, the instant we get back to Haven. Clearly you are delirious from overwork. Perhaps spending so much time in the company of steroid-munching buffoons has simply affected your perception of beauty and desire. Yes, that must be it. You've obviously forgotten what normal fairies look like and think that Dvalina is simply the best there is. I will admit that compared to your last one, what was his name ... Kurb ... Crumpet ...?'

'Kelp?'

'That's it. Compared to Kelp, Dvalina might be considered quite the beauty queen but, trust me, there's so much more out there.'

'Auntie, I don't _want_–'

'What did I tell you about wanting? Now be a good girl and shut up. The dwarves have split up the necklace – which just goes to show how unstable they are – and one of the pieces was sold to some uppity aristocrat, or something, up in Scotland. Dorchester? Damson? Doyle! Lady Doyle. Apparently, she's having a party in her country house - some castle or other, I read about it in that yummy home decorating magazine I get, you know, Better Gnomes and Gardens or whatever. Anyway, the tart's got my necklace on display in her library! As though it were some cheap Mud Man trinket! However, you, my dear, are going to go up there and get it for me. With that and the piece Loki got for me, I'll be halfway there. Of course, then I'll have to get the blasted thing repaired, and goodness knows _that _won't come cheap, but it'll be worth it.'

'Wait, why would they break apart the necklace?'

'I'm sure I've no idea what goes on in their beastly little minds. Loki simply told me they had when he gave me the piece he had managed to get his hands on, the darling sprite.'

'I was wondering why he was coming around so often these days. How many nights did you promise _him _for Brísingamen?' Lili's voice was so dry it could have evaporated a small ocean. 'Not to mention, he's a pixie, not a sprite.'

'Don't take that tone with me! I'm simply enjoying his company. And sprite, pixie, what's the difference, really?'

Lili muttered something incomprehensible and most likely crude.

'What did you say?'

'I said I thought you'd mind,' Lili covered quickly.

'Mind what?'

'Loki's company. You've never liked him very much.'

'Nonsense. I've always adored Loki. Such charm.'

'Whatever you say, Auntie,' Lili agreed, although her tone implied the exact opposite. 'Where's the piece you have now?'

'In a human safe-deposit box in Germany. No dwarf would think of breaking into some silly human bank.'

'True. Good idea.'

'Of course it is. Now, are you ready? There's a train leaving from King's Cross at 19h00; and I want you to be on it.'

'Well, I've got to pack.'

'No, you haven't, I've already had a bag prepared for you. It's downstairs in the hall. Shall we? You can take a nap after I've gone over the blueprints with you.'

'Yes, Auntie, of course,' Lili sighed.


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry for the wait, things are piling up!

The plot thickens. And yes, to answer the question, this fic will be posted in its entirety before I go. If only because I like to stress myself out.

Hip hip hurrah for Ilex-ferox!

* * *

**January 8****th****, 2011, Heyer's Antiques and Rarities, ****London, England**

Holly and Artemis stared at each other across the skylight.

'Did you hear what I just heard?'

'I believe so, yes.' Even precariously balanced, he could manage a pithy comeback and sardonic eyebrow.

Absent-mindedly, Holly smacked him for his condescension, her face creased in thought. 'Well, at least we know who framed me. I wondered, to be honest.' She paused, gnawing on her lip, 'After all, who would bother framing _me_? The only reason anyone outside the force would know of me would be through press releases, 'specially with that stupid Goblin Rebellion film coming out. I can understand the angry e-notes, but I can't see anyone being mad enough at me to go to such lengths as this.'

'What angry e-notes?' Artemis asked, wondering vaguely how anyone could in all seriousness dislike Holly.

'Oh, you know, it was just ... well ...' Holly rolled onto her back, looking up at the cloudy sky, 'I wasn't exactly the most popular civil servant around, for a while there. My ransom took a hefty chunk of tax-payers' gold, after all. Some people wondered, rather vocally, if the "crazy girly captain" was worth it. Which is fair enough, I guess.'

'"Fair enough"? That's outrageous! How could they justify being angry with you when I was the one who kidnapped you and stole the gold? If it weren't for you they'd not have got half of it back at all,' Artemis propped himself up on his elbows, full of self-righteous indignation. 'Not to mention, I could have kidnapped anyone!'

'Ah, but you didn't, did you?' She rolled back onto her stomach and smiled at him. 'And people can justify just about anything, Artemis. You ought to know that. You've got how many degrees in psychology?'

'None,' Artemis replied huffily. 'I just like to read.'

Silence descended for a moment. Artemis' stomach felt somewhat like it had been set on by a pack of hungry rodents and Holly was trying to make up her mind as to whether or not he deserved to hear what she wanted to say next. She decided that he did.

'Besides, Artemis, really, I ...' she shrugged with one shoulder, 'a lot of things have changed since then. You not the least of them. After all, if you hadn't kidnapped me, who would have saved us from Opal? You wouldn't believe the horrible letters people sent me when I was first accepted into the LEP; I can deal with a few more catty letters.'

'Well, you shouldn't have to,' Artemis mumbled, feeling abashed.

Holly was touched, despite herself. 'Thanks, Mud – Artemis.'

'Artemis?' Much to Artemis' relief, Butler's voice rising from the balcony took away the need for him to reply. Inter-personal relations were still not his forte, especially where Holly was concerned. What do you say to a woman you've kidnapped, lied to, managed to embroil in various cases of lost digits, and who could be, nonetheless, your best friend?

'We're still here, Butler. Don't worry, Holly hasn't pushed me off into the road quite yet.'

'Don't tempt me,' she chuckled.

'Best swing yourself down, Artemis, before you say something to change her mind. I'll catch you,' said Butler's disembodied voice.

Grimacing, Artemis inched to the edge of the roof, gingerly letting his legs dangle down into the air. Holly followed close behind, clearly doubting his motor skills. But Butler caught him without mishap, and, just as the giant man was straightening to do the same for Holly, she landed gracefully on her feet. Artemis was tempted to make a face. He limited his envy to a slight, disgruntled twitch of hi nose.

Holly laughed at him. Insult to injury.

* * *

**January 8****th****, 2011, Claridge's Hotel, ****London, England**

Back at the hotel, Mulch was enjoying their seventy-two inch, flat-screen, satellite television. So much so that, once they had told him what he had missed, he wondered he wouldn't have preferred to keep watching it rather listening to them. Though he had to hand it to them, they were definitely much more interesting than day-time programming.

'I dunno,' he said, twirling a bit of beard around one square finger, 'if the daughters of Dvalin and his brothers are involved, this might turn ugly. Freya's got a nasty temper on her, or so I've read, and I can tell you from personal experience that those four girls aren't exactly zen masters either. Not to mention Loki: I wouldn't want to get within twenty kilometres of something he's involved in. It's just asking for trouble.'

'Says the convicted felon. One of whose convictions involves assaulting an officer, I might add.'

'Holly, a carrot is_ hardly_ a weapon of-'

Butler cleared his throat. The two fairies turned to him, mouths open to insult each other. 'Yes?' they asked simultaneously.

'I was just wondering if either of you could explain to me exactly who Loki and these four dwarf girls are. If it wouldn't be too much trouble.' Butler's eyebrows hiked themselves a few centimetres up his forehead, intimating that it had better not be too much trouble.

The cop and the criminal shared a despairing look.

'It's not his fault,' Holly said sympathetically. 'He _is _a Mud Man.'

'But still,' Mulch shook his head, 'you'd have to be living under a pretty fronddamn big rock.'

'Technically,' Artemis interjected, 'it's you two that have been living under the rocks.'

'That's right, Artemis,' Mulch nodded, 'rub it in, rub it in.'

Butler cleared his throat again.

'Loki is another supposed Norse god,' Holly cut to the chase. 'He's actually a pixie, but there's no accounting for humans and their eyesight. Anyway, he was the Norse trickster god. More or less. In reality, he's a bastard son of some nobleman and the last Queen, who liked – likes - getting into trouble.'

'_Likes _hardly covers it,' Mulch grumbled.

Holly nodded. 'He is a bit ... excessive. Let's just say, he makes Mulch look like a model citizen.'

'That bad, huh?' Butler asked.

'You've no idea,' Holly ran a hair through her hair.

'Gee, thanks,' Mulch sulked.

Holly ignored him. 'As for the dwarves: you remember how I said Brísingamen was made by four dwarves? Well, they each had a daughter, as luck would have it, and they're all named after their fathers, Alfrigg, Dvalin, Berling and Grerr. The daughters are Alfrigga, Dvalina, Berle and Grerrida. They're quite the upper echelons party goers. Trouble knows them. Says they're surprisingly attractive despite the beards. Mind you, Trouble _did _sleep with that secretary from the Atlantean Embassy, so I'm not sure if his opinions count.' Holly pursed her lips frowning at the opposite wall, her thoughts clearly wandering.

'Why would these four dwarves, attractive or otherwise, be interested in Brísingamen?' Butler asked, forcing them back onto topic.

'Well, aside from its obvious value, they see it as theirs. There was a whole press pavlaver when it was rediscovered. Both Freyja and the girls were claiming it for their own. The girls don't seem to consider four nights of wild goings on as adequate payment, if you follow me,' Mulch waggled his eyebrows.

'Therefore, our questions now are: if these dwarves stole Brísingamen, where are the other two pieces, how would Loki get his hands on one of the pieces and why would they divide it up at all?' Artemis paused a moment. 'I suppose they might divide it up to split equally between the four of them - rather like King Solomon.'

'Who?' asked Mulch.

'Now you know how it feels,' Butler muttered.

'Well, I don't know how he did it but I'm not at all surprised Loki managed to get his hands on a piece. He could steal the wings off a sprite,' Holly shrugged.

Artemis _hmm_ed thoughtfully.

'Well, this is all very fascinating, but I still say this is getting iffy. I dunno about you guys but I don't really want end up on Loki's black list. That's downright dangerous.' Mulch flapped his hands a bit to emphasise his point.

'Right,' Holly scoffed, 'because hanging around with Artemis is usually so safe and relaxing.'

'I'm just _saying-'_

'Well, quit saying and get cracking, we've got a house party to crash.'

'There's no point in rushing of just yet, Holly. I would like to do a little research on the Doyle's estate before we go. Since this time we can't very well call up Foaly and ask him to give us its blueprints, it is imperative that we know as much as we can about the layout if we are to steal back the necklace ourselves.'

'Wha - wait a minute now, who said anything about stealing?' Holly crossed her arms, glaring.

'Funnily enough, you know, I believe I did,' Artemis replied, pretending to stroke his still beardless chin in deep thought. 'And, as I was saying, in order to break in and get the piece out before Lili does, it will be necessary to know our way around. We know Lili is catching the evening train. She won't be arriving in Edinburgh until eleven thirty at the earliest as it is, plus the time it takes her to get out to the property. Therefore, I would suggest we go in a little after midnight, if the house has gone to sleep. So, if we might begin our preparations? Holly?'

A growl was Holly's final word on the subject.

'I thought you'd say that,' Artemis replied with a seraphic smile.

Silently, Holly began strangling the air.

Butler looked about as thrilled. If not less so.

* * *

'Actually,' said Artemis, as Butler and Holly were cleaning out their various weapons, 'for once we've had a bit of luck-'

Holly knocked superstitiously on the coffee table she sat at. Artemis gave her a withering look. She shrugged. 'You have some seriously bad karma, Artemis. No point making it worse.'

'As I was saying,' Artemis continued, huffily, 'we're in luck. The magazine Freya mentioned has their entire article on the Doyle's estate online. It includes everything from directions to a link to the local archives which, you'll be pleased to know, have scanned and uploaded their copy of the castle blue prints and grounds onto the internet. Apparently the Doyles enjoy a slight celebrity in the world of European cheese-makers. They specialise in Gouda.'

'Fascinating,' Holly replied, clearly far from riveted.

'Always good to have a little background, Holly,' Artemis chided.

'Personally, right now, I'd prefer a plan of action but, you know, that could just be me,' Holly shot back.

Artemis nearly pouted. 'I'm getting there,' he replied snippily.

* * *

**January 8****th****, 2011, Edinburgh, Scotland**

The flight to Edinburgh, and the subsequent drive out to Lady Doyle's, were uncharacteristically quiet. Artemis had concocted a plan, as requested, and Holly had learnt, once again, to watch what she wished for. In fact, the only person who entirely pleased with the plan was Mulch: mainly because it featured him staying out of sight in a tunnel.

Butler was to stay in the car as the getaway driver. Parked on the outskirts of the grounds, he would wait while Mulch chomped his way beneath an Elizabethan maze, a Moorish water feature and a topiary garden (whose crowning glory – according to Better Gnomes and Gardens – was an ten foot yew duck) until he arrived in the cheese cellar.

Holly and Artemis would follow Mulch, slip out of the cheese cellar, from where it would be a quick ascent to the first floor and the library, which sat directly above the cellar.

Which, of course, was why Butler wasn't pleased with the situation. Why Artemis needed to leave the car at all was beyond him.

'Because I know the floor plan,' his charge had explained.

'What? Holly can't follow directions?'

'Obviously that is not the case. I would simply rather not take the chance of her getting lost. The faster we get this done the faster I will be back in the car, safe and sound.'

'I've seen the plans as well. I could go isntead.'

Artemis affected shocked surprise. 'But then who would guard me, sitting all alone and defenceless in the car? Besides, if we are interrupted, Holly is bringing along camfoil. I can fit under it, but you certainly couldn't. Therefore, I am going. I'll have Holly, won't I? She'll take care of me.'

Holly smiled in a way that was scarily reminiscent of Artemis. 'Your faith in me is touching, Mud Boy.'

Artemis quirked an eyebrow. 'Sometimes, Holly, I'm afraid your bark is worse than your bite, as they say.'

'Is that so? Well then, this won't hurt at all.' She punched him just above the elbow. He gasped, winced, and clutched his arm.

Holly shook her head, smiling fondly. 'I don't think that will _ever _get old. There's for making me a thief, Fowl.' Which was why Holly was unhappy about his plan.

So there they were: four mute creatures in a black sedan driving through the outskirts of Edinburgh. There have been cheerier funeral processions.

* * *

**January 9****th****, 2011, The Doyle Estate, Edinburgh, Scotland**

The tunnel from the car to the cheese cellar was particularly long and, despite Mulch's assurances that the dirt was very tasty, extremely unpleasant. Artemis wondered if perhaps he shouldn't have let Butler go in his stead. Of course, his real reason for coming had been that, had he stayed safely in the car, he would have been bored out of his mind. Surely a little dirt was worth it? Artemis sighed to himself. He used to be such a sensible child.

'Ah-righ',' Mulch said around a mouthful of dirt, 'we ah' he-ah. Ehwebo-eh ou'.'

'Thank Frond,' muttered Holly, hauling herself out onto the floor. Artemis joined her quickly, eager to be out of the tunnel and let Mulch go about expelling whatever gases needed to be expelled. As he watched her shake tunnel dirt from her short hair, Artemis caught Holly's eye and she pulled a face. Silently, he nodded in agreement.

'Let's get out of here,' she said, jerking her thumb towards the door. 'Which way are the stairs?'

'To the right.' Artemis poked his head back into the tunnel, 'We shouldn't be long, Mulch.'

'Yeah, like I've never heard _that _one before,' came Mulch's disembodied and sceptical voice.

'He's got a point,' Holly said, as she and Artemis stuck their heads into the corridor. 'Things never go as they should where you're involved.'

'We're all still alive, aren't we?' Artemis shrugged.

'Hope you don't mind if I don't hold my breath,' Holly retorted. 'What about CCTV, or some other kind of surveillance network, Artemis?'

He slanted a look at her. 'The Doyle's are picnic-loving cheese makers. Not mafia kingpins. Nothing I came across mentioned any.'

'Still ...' Holly glanced up the dark hall. 'You stay here a minute, I'll shield and check for cameras. The kit Foaly gave me had a distortion strip in it. For ten minutes all the cameras will pick up is static.'

All Holly found was a small security camera wired above the far door. Despite its pitiful coverage, Holly dutifully clambered onto the rim of a large oriental pot holding a drooping fern, and reached up, wiring the distortion strip into place. After a second, she unshielded, beckoning to Artemis.

Even with the cover of Foaly's technology, it was still a nerve-wracking four minutes before they made it to the library. But, when Artemis tried the handle, its door swung open without resistance. Without hesitation, the pair slipped inside.

Taking a quick look around, they made their way past the bookcases, through the neatly arranged furniture, towards a row of spindly-legged display cases tucked below the far windows. In the middle case, glittering in the dim light of the moon through the white linen curtains, was the piece of Brísingamen.

Holly brought out her omnitool, crouching to get at the tiny lock embedded at the bottom of the glass case. But, just as her finger brushed the 'on' button, there came the sound of a knob turning. Reflexively, the elf grabbed her human companion, toppling them both sideways under a writing desk sitting against the side wall. With a practiced flick, the camfoil billowed out, hiding them completely. As awkwardly and uncomfortably squeezed together as they were, they were at least small enough to be safe under the protective sheet.

The whole manoeuvre took less than five seconds and, just as Artemis got enough breath back to open his mouth and complain, the library door opened.

Two women entered, closing the door softly behind them. As they crossed the floor to where Artemis and Holly had been standing mere seconds before, Artemis was glad the camfoil kept him from view as he stared at them. Both women sported beards past their shoulders and, if that wasn't more than enough hair for such tiny people, thick curls of unruly red hair stuck out from their dark toques. Artemis had once thought that there was no possible way any living creature could be hairier than Mulch Diggums. He now realised just how wrong he had been.

'Hurry up, Berle,' hissed the shorter of the two dwarves. 'It's freezing up here.'

' Name of Tara, we've got all night, Grerrida. Get a hold of yourself.' The other dwarf ignored her cousin's melodramatic shivering, concentrating on fiddling with the hair she was inserting into the case's lock.

Berle's 'Aha!' of success was interrupted by the sudden arrival of someone through the windows.

'Berle!' whispered a shocked Lili Frond. 'Grerrida! What are you two doing here?'

'What are _we _doing here? What are _you_ doing here?' Grerrida drew herself up proudly.

'What do you think I'm doing here? Taking back what you stole! Speaking of which, what are you after Brísingamen for?'

The dwarves stared at her, clearly flabbergasted.

'Frond, you really are a blonde,' Berle sneered. 'Why _wouldn't _we be after Brísingamen? It's rightfully ours! Why are _you_ after it? You stole it once already, didn't you? And what the _Frond _was that batty great-aunt of yours thinking, anyway, breaking it into pieces like this?'

Lili blinked. 'What? But it was you who-'

'THIEVES!'

In shocked unison, five heads swung to face the library door: two dwarves, two elves and one human. What they saw, silhouetted in the light of the hall, were two very short and clean-shaven women wearing pyjamas and dressing-gowns. One of them pointed was dramatically pointing an accusing finger at the visible assembly of housebreakers.

'D'Arvit,' swore Lili as she leapt for the windows, vanishing into the night.

'Alfrigga, you traitor!' Berle's nostrils flared. Artemis heard Holly swallow expressively. 'What are you doing here? Staying the night? You little mud-lover, don't you have _any _shame?'

'Look at their faces! Little brown-nosers have even shaved! Ew!' Grerrida wrinkled her button nose, putting both hands to her beard as though for reassurance.

The taller of the two dwarves in the doorway tut-tutted, stepping into the library. 'Not if it gets me what I want, cousin dearest.'

Voices could be heard coming down the hall.

'You'd better hurry and run, cousins,' the other newcomer smiled. Her eyes lingered a moment on the windowsill Lili had so recently vacated.

The two bearded dwarves looked at each other, the sounds of approaching humans were very near now, and, with one final curse flung at their cousins, followed Lili out of the window.

'Quick!' said Dvalina, darting forward to the case. 'They'll be here in a second.'

'Hide it under the cushions,' her cousin whispered, gesturing to the overstuffed couch beside them. 'We can come back for it before the police get here.'

'Are you sure that's-' Dvalina held Brísingamen in one sleeve covered hand.

'Where else'll we put it?' Alfrigga gestured eloquently to their filmy pyjamas. 'If it weren't for those two getting in our way-' she broke off as the first of the humans entered the room.

'Thieves? Did you say thieves? Where?' A plump woman with flyaway hair stood in the doorway, clutching her housecoat to her.

'Irene! Yes! Thieves! We were in the hall, you know how we have trouble sleeping, and hear noises, we caught them in the act, but they escaped through the window.' Alfrigga opened her eyes very wide as her cousin straightened from hastily stuffing Brísingamen under a cushion.

'Oh, goodness me! Conan, did you hear that?'

'Sorry, dear, what?' Half-dressed and yawning, the rail-thin form of Lady Doyle's husband appeared in the doorway, followed by several other guests all in various states of undress.

'Thieves!'

'In the library? Don't be ridiculous, Irene. There's no cheese up here.' Doyle rubbed his eyes, frowning.

'They weren't after cheese,' Dvalina worked hard to keep the disparaging note out of her voice.

'Really?' Lord Doyle perked up considerably at this. 'What did they take then? Marvellous, a proper robbery at last!'

Alfrigga discreetly rolled her eyes.

'I hardly think breaking and entering qualifies as _marvellous, _dear,' Irene Doyle frowned.

'What did they take?' One of the other guests, a bony woman with plaid slippers and a limp, asked eagerly.

'The opals,' Dvalina replied, her face taking on a look of deep regret.

A collective gasp arose from group. And then everyone began talking at once.

After a few minutes of cacophony, where the most one got out of any given sentence went something along the lines of:

'-such a lovely shade of-'

'-they insured? Somehow, I-'

'-possibly have taken-'

'-calm _down,_ Mrs. Christie. It's just-'

'-murdered in our beds-'

Lord Doyle shouted for silence. Eventually, he got it.

'All right,' he was a little out of breath from having shouted everyone down, 'I am going to call the police. If, perhaps, we could all retire to the Red Room, I'll have some tea sent up.'

It was, of course, another ten minutes before everyone was out of the library, Alfrigga and Dvalina in particular asking repeatedly whether it wouldn't be better if they stayed to keep an eye on things until the police arrived? It wouldn't be a bother, not at all. Well, only if you're sure.

Lord Doyle was sure. He herded everyone out of the library with commendable patience and locked the door behind him.

For a few moments the library echoed with the sounds of the crowd that had just left it.

'Well, that was interesting,' Holly and Artemis spoke in unison, as the last sounds of the humans died away. There was a surprised silence. Artemis slanted a look at his elfin counterpart – easier said than done, as she had got stuck upside down under the desk and her head and chest were under his bent legs. Holly shrugged with one shoulder and used his leg as leverage to shunt herself out into the open.

'So much for Lili's theory about the dwarves,' Artemis added as he scrambled to his feet, wincing as he caught his head against an ornate corner.

'Yes,' agreed Holly, sitting up and reaching for the camfoil. 'Which means we're back at square one. If the dwarves didn't steal Brísingamen, who did?'

'A fair few people possibly. However, why don't we discuss this in a few minutes, once we are quite safe again?' Artemis raised his eyebrows.

'Was that caution I just heard from the great Artemis Fowl?' Holly teased, stowing the foil back in her kit.

'I don't know what you're talking about, Captain, I'm a very cautious person.'

''Course you are. And I'm King Frond V,' Holly replied.

Artemis sighed. Without bothering to answer, he crossed to the couch, pushing aside the cushions and pulling out the second piece of Brísingamen.

'Time to go, then?' Holly asked, examining the opals he held.

'My thoughts exactly.'

'You always were so predictable,' she winked at him.

'You weren't saying that when you were locked in my cellar,' he shot back.

She laughed at him, pulling out her communicator. 'Mulch? Hey, change of plan, we'll meet you at the car. No, no, we've got it, it's just ... mm, well, let's say the halls are a bit crowded right now. Okay. Yes, yes, see you.'

'No, I didn't think we would be able to use the halls,' Artemis nodded in agreement.

'See, what did I tell you? Predictable.'

'Fortunately for me, only to you, so far.'

'O lucky, lucky me. Come on, Mud Boy, quit hanging around, we've got some climbing to do.' Holly drew aside the curtains, turning back to him with a grin so evil he was sure he had once seen it in the mirror.

'We're not-' he gestured hopelessly at the windows.

'Oh yes, we are.'

Artemis could have sworn she cackled.


	6. Chapter 6

A quick note about pronounciation: "Ph" is usually pronounced like an "f" and in Canada the word "route" is pronounced "root".

Thank you, Ilex-ferox! (And aren't you breaking your beta-reviewing-code?)

* * *

**January 9th, 2011, The Doyle Estate, Edinburgh, Scotland**

_Thwack._

'Ow.'

_Snap._

'Ouch!'

_Twok._

'God! Bloody he-'

'Artemis, would you _shut up?_' Holly hissed, pulling up short in front of the suffering boy and glaring at him for all she was worth. Not that he could tell, of course. That she was glaring or that she had stopped walking.

'I'm _trying,_ it's just that – oof!' Artemis' excuse was cut off as he walked straight into the elf's back.

'Watch it! Frond, I can't turn my back on you for a second!' Holly grumbled, her mouth full of damp grass.

'You should have warned me! How was I to know you'd stopped? _You're _the one with night-vision, not me. And, for that matter –' Interrupted once again, Artemis glared down in the general direction of the hand covering his mouth.

'_Shh._'

There came the sound of voices growing louder and suddenly a torch beam swung through the leaves above them, momentarily blinding Holly's sensitive eyes.

'See anything?'

'Nah, les'go. Back towards the lake, yeah?'

The response was indistinct but the light turned away from them. Artemis and Holly lay frozen, listening to the sounds of footsteps dying away.

'Right,' whispered Artemis, more softly than before, 'let's try to be quiet then, shall we?'

Holly snorted, half amused, half annoyed. 'Sure, if you feel up to it.'

'The branches kept hitting me,' Artemis defended himself at last.

'Poor Mud Baby,' Holly sighed. But, apparently, she felt at least a little sympathetic for she took his hand in hers before leading them deeper into the undergrowth.

* * *

When the Captain had called him with the change of plans, Mulch had been in the middle of checking his messages. Between adverts for the cheapest satellite TV in Britain and an all-new weight-loss regime, there was a message from one "Pho Li N. Route". Frowning, Mulch opened it. Like the sun, comprehension dawned all too quickly.

"CONVICT! (his mobile's speaker crackled ominously) If anything happens to my officer you are mincemeat! And I mean MINCED. You'll be begging for goblin cellmates after I get through with you! That stint you did after the Texas auction will be nothing on it. Do I make myself clear, Convict?"

'No,' Mulch muttered, rolling his eyes, 'could you elaborate a little more, please, Julius?'

"Apparently you can reach us at the number 1-250-388-4242. It's one of Foaly's human-business cover jobbies. Leave a message. By which I mean: if there isn't a message in that inbox by midnight, I will personally feed you to trolls. Finger by finger. Hair by hair. Got it, Convict? Good."

The thing was, Mulch thought to himself after Holly hung up, it was all a matter of comparison. Holly thought she was tough but, for pure abrasiveness, she was as sweet as a kitten compared to her Commander.

* * *

**January 9th, 2011, Just Outide the Doyle Estate, Edinburgh, Scotland**

A frantic Butler greeted Artemis and Holly as they pushed themselves through what Holly had sworn was a thin patch in the hedge. As he stood, gasping, in the lane, Artemis had serious doubts about that.

He took one look at their scratched, muddy and generally unkempt state and, before either of them could manage more than 'hello', had unceremoniously grabbed them both by their collars, shoved them into the backseat of the car, and slammed the door behind them. He landed in the driver's seat with such ferocity that the whole car groaned under the impact. A double _click _was heard and Artemis and Holly automatically looked to their doors.

'Did you just child-lock us in?' Holly asked in disbelief.

'You bet your badge I did, Short. Do you know how worried I was? Mulch got here twenty minutes ago!' The distraught Eurasian jerked his chin at the dwarf in the passenger seat. Mulch waggled his fingers cheerily at the bedraggled pair.

'Well, we did have to take a much more circuitous rou-'

'Artemis, be quiet.' Ignoring his affronted charge, Butler glared at Holly in the rear view mirror, 'This is _not _what I call "looked after", Holly Short.'

'Why is he acting like this is my fault?' Holly turned to Artemis, 'I seem to recall this was all _your _idea.'

Artemis shrugged. 'Out of the two of us, you're the one with the overdeveloped sense of guilt.'

'Not about scuffing up a few of your clothes, I haven't.'

'He's bleeding!' Butler interjected.

'I am?'

'You are?'

The pair in the back seat turned to eye each other.

'Oh yes, right there.' Holly reached up, smoothing her thumb over a scratch above Artemis' left eyebrow, trailing blue sparks behind her. 'See? Good as new, Butler. He didn't even feel it.'

'Artemis doesn't feel a lot of things,' Butler harrumphed. But his initial panic was over, leaving him only mildly exasperated.

'See what I mean? It's character-building!' Holly smiled.

'I'll give you character-building, Holly Short,' the man grumbled with just the barest hint of a smile.

'I've got a bit of something character-building for you, actually, Holly,' Mulch piped up from the passenger seat. 'In the form of a tomato with a fungus cigar addiction and a pair of lungs like Pavoratti.'

'Root? He's here?' Holly perked up.

'Not at all, or he'd be doing you in for indirectly referring to him as a tomato. But he did leave a message. Here, let me put it on speaker phone.' He gave the volume dial a crank to the right.

'No!' said Artemis and Holly simultaneously, but by then the voice of Julius Root could be heard all the way to Edinburgh.

As the message ended, Artemis unpeeled his hands from his ears, eyes watering. 'Well,' he said at length, 'at least you know he cares.'

Holly shook her head, pointy ears visibly drooping. 'That'll be nothing to how much he'll care when he finds out you're back in the game.'

* * *

**January 9th, 2011, Edinburgh Airport, Edinburgh, Scotland**

'Well, lady and gents,' Mulch spoke as they come to a halt in the airport parking lot, 'this has all been a real gas, let me tell you, but I'm thinking, if you guys don't need my expertise anymore, perhaps you wouldn't mind dropping me off at home on your way back to Ireland?'

Butler snorted. 'Because Immingham is really on the way.'

'Hey,' Mulch shrugged, 'what's a little petrol between friends?'

'At today's prices?' Butler asked rhetorically.

'I'll take that as a yes, then, shall I?'

'By all means,' Butler replied, none too reassuringly, as he got out of the car.

In the back seat, Artemis and Holly shared an exasperated look. One which quickly changed to horror when they tried to open their doors.

'Wait! Butler!'

* * *

**January 10****th****, 2011, Immingham, South Humberside, England**

They parked in an open field behind Mulch's decrepit house. Even in the dark Artemis could see that the house seemed to have lurched drunkenly to the left one night and never quite managed to right itself. Coupled with a roof so near collapse, the Irish teen didn't see how Mulch kept the building inspectors away. The outside had nothing on the interior, however.

'Gives a whole new meaning to the concept of "rising damp",' Artemis murmured to Butler as Mulch lead them into the living room. The bodyguard smothered a snort.

Used to the mouldy interior, Holly got straight down to business. Gingerly balancing herself on the edge of one of his few seats, she turned to Mulch, hand outstretched. 'I need to borrow your phone,' she said.

'Why?' the dwarf raised a suspicious eyebrow.

'To cook with. To call Foaly, that's why.'

Artemis' attention drifted away from his posturing friends. His eye was caught by a painting, a Stubbs, he believed, hanging beside a grandfather clock. Tucked into the frame was a newspaper clipping. Narrowing his eyes, he approached the painting. The article was from the Washington Post, concerning a recent break-in at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Apparently a newly acquired piece of jewellery had vanished from its glass case, leaving the authorities flummoxed. The necklace fragment, featuring two stunning opals and exquisite gold-work had been purchased by the museum only four days prior to its theft and –

At this point Artemis stopped reading, turning his narrowed gaze to the clock next to him.

The wooden piece stuck out like a sore thumb in Mulch's high-tech grotto. It and the painting looked laughably out of place amidst the mould, the chrome and the tinted glass.

'Artemis!' Talking to Holly, Mulch hadn't noticed Artemis' wandering eyes. 'Fowl, what are you – no, don't open that! It's nothing, it's just ...' Mulch trailed off as, from amidst a glittering pile of stolen jewels stashed inside the clock, Artemis deftly fished out another piece of Brísingamen.

Turning, he held it up for everyone to see. For a moment there was silence. Then,

'Mulch!' Holly turned on the dwarf and, in all likelihood, would probably have murdered him there and then, if Butler hadn't made a hasty grab at the back of her shirt. **'**How _could_ you? You two-timing, double-crossing, filthy little _sneak_! You're worse than Artemis!'

'I beg your pardon-' the teen began.

But Holly didn't really care just then. 'I swear, Diggums, I am going to kick you into next Tuesday! You'll be so sore the scorch marks from the Goblins in your cell will be a relief! I'll – would you put me _down,_ Butler?'

'Just trying to keep you from doing something you'll regret later,' said Butler apologetically, without slackening his grip. 'Well - much, much later.'

The elf growled, teeth bared. Artemis wondered how someone so small could be so very, very terrifying.

'Holly, now, please, don't get over-excited.' Mulch put on his best car-salesman grin. 'I was just saving this as a ... a surprise, yeah. I was going to tell you, honest. Besides, I stole it from the Met., not the Haven museum. I would never frame you for one of my crimes.'

'That's true,' agreed Artemis, 'Mulch is much too proud of his felonies to let someone else take the credit like that.'

'Credit?' snorted Holly. 'Blame, more like.'

'I didn't even know you were involved until you arrived in the post.' Mulch put up his hands, 'honest!'

After a minute more of struggling, she sighed. 'Okay, Butler, you can put me down now.'

Hesitantly, he did. As soon as his hand left her shirt, however, she pounced, delivering a solid punch to Mulch's unsuspecting jaw.

Butler and Artemis winced. Holly dusted her hands together, looking terribly pleased with herself.

'Ohhh, d'Ah-vit, Horreh, ah bih mah tung,' Mulch clutched his chin, eyes watering.

'Good!' replied Holly viciously.

Artemis cleared his throat, 'I know it's difficult but, if we can bear to tear our minds away from all this excitement for just a moment, I would like to point out that we are now in possession, however accidentally, of three quarters of Brísingamen. And yet it remains to be discovered _why _our elusive thief, or thieves, decided to break the necklace apart. Or how this piece came to be where it was before Mulch - er – liberated it.'

'Da hingsh ah do fah you, Horreh,' Mulch shook his hairy head. 'Buh thash grahihude fah you. Kish hese daysh, honeshly.'

Holly cracked her knuckles expressively. Mulch shut up and went back to nursing his jaw.

'If you don't mind, Mulch, I'm afraid we'll trespass on your hospitality a moment longer. I need to use a computer. I assume you do have an internet connection?'

'Ah coursh. Do ah looh lie a shavage to 'oo?'

Artemis elected not to answer that as he followed the dwarf to the den.

* * *

Two hours later, Artemis emerged from the den talking on his mobile.

'Yes, thank you. Yes, I will. Thank you for your help. Yes, good day.' Snapping the phone shut, he tried, and failed, not to look smug.

'I'm afraid we're back off to London,' he told his expectant audience.

'Why?' Holly crosses all her limbs to underline just how stubborn she was preparing to be.

'Why? _Why? _ My dear Captain, if I told you why, that would ruin my carefully timed reveal later on.'

'My heart bleeds for you, it really does,' Holly dead-panned. 'Why?'

Artemis sighed, rolling his eyes up, as though to make sure the heavens were making note of his compliance. 'Because I think it's time that we had a little chat with the infamous Loki. I'm sure you'll never guess who The Metropolitan Museum of Art bought its fragment of Brísingamen from.'

'Loki.'

'In one.'

'So, what you're saying,' Butler frowned, 'is that if Loki got his hands on one of the pieces, he must know the original thief.'

'Nearly.' Artemis grinned with all his teeth. 'What I'm saying is that he _is _the original thief.'


	7. Chapter 7

Double update because I don't have time to keep you on tenterhooks. Flight in 23 hours and 15 minutes. Oh God....

And, _finally_, here's Loki. Sorry you had to wait, Kit.

Ilex-ferox is an awesome beta.

* * *

**January 10****th****, 2011, The Air Above** **Immingham, South Humberside, England**

'Unfortunately,' Artemis explained as the Lear left Humberside Airport and headed once more towards London, 'I have no idea what name Loki is hiding under in London. For lack of a better lead, I'm suggesting we go back to Heyer's and search Freya's files for an address book of some sort. If that fails, we could always go for a more heavy-handed approach and ... confront her.'

Unconsciously, Holly shivered at the thought of his plans for a "confrontation". There were times when she was very, very glad they were no longer enemies.

'That's all well and good,' Butler spoke from the pilot's seat, 'but before this goes any further, I believe it's high time we all got a little sleep. I've booked rooms at Claridge's again.'

Artemis frowned at his manservant's presumption. 'That may be so, Butler, however-'

'I must have forgotten to mention,' Butler interrupted his charge, 'that this isn't optional. You sleep or we go nowhere, Artemis.'

Artemis opened his mouth to respond but a yawn escaped him, effectively ending any rebuttal. Recognizing a lost cause when he saw one, he turned towards the window and sulked.

'Besides,' Butler grinned, 'I may be old, but I'm still up to locking the three of you in a closet.'

Holly and Artemis looked back at Mulch, placidly eating a carrot in the cabin. Simultaneously, they shuddered.

* * *

**January 11****th****, 2011, Claridge's Hotel, London, England**

As it turned out, Artemis slept for a solid twenty-four hours. Holly managed twenty-six. In fairness, she hadn't slept properly since leaving Haven nearly a week ago.

The last to rise, Holly found her roommates at breakfast as she blearily stumbled into the suite's living room. 'What time is it?' she asked around an enormous yawn.

'Eight thirty a.m.,' Butler answered, 'on Tuesday.'

'WHAT?' Holly gaped.

'Well, I hate to say I told you so,' Butler smirked, 'but you _were _tired.'

'Right. Rub it in, rub it in.'

'I get so few opportunities,' Butler shrugged.

* * *

**January 11****th****, 2011, The Portobello Road, London, England**

The Portobello Road was still grey, drizzly and full of tourists. Holly found that vaguely comforting.

'I have a question for you, Holly,' Butler turned to the elf as he parked the car. 'I thought fairies only lived above ground in exile without their magic, but there seem to be plenty of them running around above ground right now.'

Holly laughed. 'Well, a lot of the richer or more influential fairies have got ... I guess you could call it a double live, on the surface. They wangle themselves a visa and then vanish for a couple of months. It's a pretty long standing tradition and the LEP doesn't have the manpower or the political clout to really do much about it. We just have to turn a more or less blind eye. It's a select few who manage to pull it off and they've been doing it for centuries.'

'That must be frustrating.'

'It is.'

'But what about the sun? Or being seen? Freya sent Lili off on that train like it was nothing new.'

'Lili was probably invisible for the journey, or dressed up like a kid. As for the sun, why do you think the UK and, especially, Ireland have so many stories about us? Because, when we go above ground, this is where we like to spend our time more than anywhere else. And _that's_ because, even at midday in August, you're likely to have overcast skies and rain.' She grinned at Butler, 'No sun to bother us here. In Ireland it's even better. Someone catches sight of a pointy ear and nobody thinks twice. Well,' she looked over at Artemis, 'nearly nobody.'

'Still,' Mulch looked uneasily at the sky, 'there's always the chance the sun could poke through...' he trailed off muttering, 'Any minute now,' under his breath.

'Then we'd better be quick about this, hadn't we?' Holly asked him.

* * *

The antique shop was just as cluttered, dusty and devoid of life as it had ever been.

'Hello?' called Butler. No answer. Then again, they hadn't really been expecting one.

Without further ado, the four investigators trouped up the back stairs, heading towards the office.

'Do you think she ever gets customers?' Holly asked no one in particular.

'Who'd want to buy something out of this junk heap when the Portobello Road's right round the corner? Most of the stuff downstairs is fake, anyway.' Mulch jimmied the lock on the filing cabinet with an unimpressed tut.

'So's the stuff on the road,' Holly pointed out.

'More fun to shop in though.'

'Fair enough.'

Silence descended as they sifted through Freya's papers.

'Hmm, I believe I may have found something,' Artemis spoke from where he knelt by the door, going through a drawer of bank statements.

_Click._

His companions looked over to him in time to see Freya fizzle into the visible spectrum, a shiny black revolver pointed at Artemis' head.

'Hello,' said Freya. When no one spoke, she shrugged and continued. 'Now, some of you look sort of familiar, but jog my memory, ducky, who exactly are you?' she looked down questioningly at Artemis.

'My name is Artemis Fowl,' he said.

Freya looked positively gleeful. 'Fowl! Oh this is too precious. You must be Captain Short, my cover story.' She raised her lip in Mulch's direction, 'I'm not sure I want to who you are but, my, who is the terribly attractive genetics experiment?' Freya smiled widely at Butler.

'Er, that's Butler, and the dwarf is Mulch Diggums.' Holly edged her way around the desk as Butler did the same in the other direction. 'Freya, that's a human gun, it's not like ours, it'll ki-'

'Kill him. Yes, I know. So you two had better stop moving and be good, hadn't you?' She nudged Artemis with the tip of the gun before turning to eye Butler. After giving him a very appreciative once-over, she asked him, her voice layered with mesmer, 'And just what, Mr. Butler, are the four of you doing in my office? Don't worry, you can tell Freya.'

Butler would clearly rather have eaten sewage but, as his consciousness succumbed, only managed to a grunt and twitching eyelid.

'Oh pet, please don't. That twitching is not at all attractive. Stop that.'

Butler's eyelid lay still as he answered the question. 'Looking for Loki's address.'

'Looking for- why?'

'Because we're trying to find out who stole Brísingamen.'

'Ah,' Freya looked down at Artemis, 'helping your little friend clear her name, are you? How chivalrous.'

Artemis looked faintly insulted.

'Well, I'm afraid I just can't let you do that.' She prodded Artemis with the tip of her gun. 'Be a good boy and go sit with your friends against the desk. I want you all where I can see you. That goes for you two, as well.'

As everyone reorganized themselves accordingly, Freya kept close to Artemis, gun trained on his forehead. 'Excellent. Now, before we move on to more important things, tell me, Mister Fowl, where on earth did you come by such a yummy – what is he? Bodyguard?'

Artemis looked distinctly ill at ease with the way Freya kept eyeing his manservant like a pastry. 'Family heirloom,' he said.

'Family-' Freya cocked an eyebrow at him. 'Think you're cute do you, Fowl?'

'Not really.'

'Good, because- hands out of your pockets!' Freya jerked her chin at Mulch, who slouched against the desk. With a shrug, the dwarf withdrew his hands from his trouser pockets and put them where she could see them.

'Really, Freya, I'm sure we could talk about this reasonably. This hostage situation is so uncouth,' Artemis wheedled.

'Ugh, you're telling me. Unfortunately, Mud Thing, I'm no match for either your butch groupie or your pretty pet gorilla, so hostage-taking is what I have been reduced to.'

'It must irk you: former royalty, once worshipped, and now what? You own a pawn shop? How the mighty are fallen,' Artemis shook his head sadly.

'Hold still!' Freya pressed the revolver against his skull. 'Why do you think I wanted to steal Brisingamen, anyway? With that necklace no-one can deny me anything. I'll be restored to my former glory. I need that necklace!' The elf sighed. 'You've no idea what it's like growing old, losing one's beauty, losing one's power. It's awful. Frond, my hair's so thin these days you couldn't even use it as mozzie netting. Is it so terrible to want to be beautiful again? Think about it, Mud Boy; when you're old and your brain is failing and you lose everything that once defined you and you are alone, what would you gamble to have it all back? To be your own master again?'

Artemis had no answer for her.

Disparagingly, she snorted. Turning her Mesmer-eyes on Butler, she said, 'Now, my lovely ape, there's duct tape in the desk, tie up the dwarf and Corporal Shifty.'

'Captain Short,' Holly glared.

'Whatever. Did you hear me, my big muddy darling? Tie them up!'

Butler was visibly fighting the hypnosis but, after a couple jerks of his head and hands, did as he was instructed. Neither Holly nor Mulch struggled as he looped their wrists with tape. They knew better than to fight Butler, especially with a gun at Artemis' head.

Unfortunately, that was when the doorbell rang.

Freya jerked, looking towards the office door.

'Hello? Anybody home?' A man's voice drifted up from the main floor.

'Loki!' Freya breathed.

There came the sound of muffled conversation and steps on the staircase.

'Amongst others,' Artemis noted, as Butler finished wrapping Holly's wrists in tape.

'Hello-o? Ms. Matthews? Ms. M- ah, there you are, my dove.' In the doorway stood a very short man. Or, seen another way, a very tall pixie.

'What are you doing here?' Freya glared at the intruder, 'And what is- Frond, you brought the Mud Men with you?'

Behind Loki there stood a gaggle of humans, led by Lord and Lady Doyle, all of whom looked thoroughly confused.

'I say, who is she calling "muddy"? And- my goodness, is that a gun? What on earth is going on here, Mr. Jotunn?'

'Loki, who are these idiots?' Freya ground out.

'I, Madam, am Lord Doyle, this is my wife, Lady Doyle, and these are our friends Mrs. Christie, Mr. De Mare, and Dr. Watson. I hired Mr. Jotunn to recover a piece of stolen property. However, the real question is: just who, exactly, are you? And what do you think you're doing waving that gun around in such an alarming manner? You do realise those things are dangerous?'

'Dangerous? Really? No, I had no idea,' Freya replied witheringly. 'Loki, what in Frond's name were you thinking? You stupid-'

'Oh, I don't know,' Loki replied, smiling lazily at the furious Freya, 'I think it's all quite funny, don't you?'

'Funny? _Funny?_' This seemed to send Freya over the edge. She waved the gun wildly at the newcomers, 'Alright, I want all of you in that corner there and no complaints. I will shoot anyone who steps out of line, do you understand? Butler, tie them up!'

Still weakly trying to fight his hypnosis, Butler lumbered over to the dumbfounded humans, shepherding them into the corner.

'Hey! Now wait a minute!' Doctor Watson tried in vain to pull her bony wrists out of Butler's massive hands as he moved to tape them together. 'Do you know what kind of chemicals are in that tape? It's terrible for your skin! I don't want-'

'I thought I said I'd shoot the next person who steps out of line.' Freya remarked casually.

'Oh, right.' Doctor Watson shrugged her thin shoulders. 'Sorry. Forgot.'

'Well you'd best not forget again, or-'

'Hey, wait a minute, is it just me or do half this lot have pointy ears? I must say it's odd enough stumbling across a room full of midgets but pointy eared ones, now that's a bit much. What's-'

Freya coughed. Lady Doyle elbowed her husband in the ribs. He shut up.

'Frond,' Holly whispered to Artemis, 'at the rate this is going, we're going to be here all week.'

'Auntie Freya! What are you _doing?_' An astonished Lili Frond came to an abrupt halt, having burst through the balcony door, four dwarves close on her heels.

'Getting herself into a lot of unnecessary trouble, my sweet,' Loki leered at Lili, giving her a casual once-over and waggling his plucked eyebrows. Behind the elf, Dvalina could be heard making retching sounds.

'Oh for the love of- what under the earth are you doing here, Lili?' Freya demanded.

'Would you look at that? She's got the pointy ears as well!'

'Conan, stop- wait a minute, Alfrigga? Dvalina? Is that you?' Irene Doyle attempted to get a better look at the new arrivals around the bulk that was Domovoi Butler.

'I could ask you the same thing.' Lili glared at her aunt, crossed her arms and huffed.

Alfirgga and Dvalina hid behind their sisters.

'What?' Freya frowned at her niece. Unnoticed, Loki fumbled with something inside his jacket.

'So this is a family 'do?' asked Mrs. Christie of no-one in particular.

'What I mean is that I had a bit of a think and went over to your flat to see if what I thought was true and, lo and behold, these four had come to the same conclusion. Turns out we got it right, look what we found in your safe.' Lili held up the fourth piece of Brísingamen. 'You've been lying to me all along, Auntie! You already had Brísingamen!'

There was a moment of silence, then everybody started talking at once.

'But that's-'

'Well, if that isn't the outside of enough-'

'Artemis, I thought you said it was _Loki _who-'

'Looks like even a child genius has to be wrong sometimes, eh, Mud-'

'Alfrigga, Dvalina, what does this-'

'Mr. Jotunn, what is going-'

'Quiet!' Freya put two rounds into the ceiling. 'I want all of you to be quiet!'

'I think it's time I explain what's going on, don't you, Freya?' Artemis spoke when at last everyone _was_ quiet. The teen had been looking out of the window at the sky, frowning, but now he turned back to the assemble crowd and smiled. Recognising the signs of oncoming theatrics, Holly groaned, burying her face in her bound hands.

All heads turned to the Irish youth.

'You think you know what's going on, do you?' Freya asked.

'I believe so, yes.' Artemis hooked the wheeled desk chair with one foot, rolling it towards him. With studied nonchalance, he sat down. 'You don't mind if I sit, do you, my dear? It's rather a long story and standing for long periods always makes my knees hurt.'

Freya looked over at Holly who, with closed eyes, was pinching her nose and muttering under her breath. 'I'll give you one thing, Shanti, at least your little Mud Man has character.'

Holly cracked one eye open and glared at the other elf. 'It's S_hort_,' she said.

'Like her temper,' Mulch supplied helpfully.

'As I was saying...' Artemis interrupted pointedly.

'Yes, let him get on with it, I'm very curious as to-' One look from Freya was enough to shut Conan up again.

Artemis steepled his fingers. 'Let's start from the beginning. Brísingamen is rediscovered and put into the safe-keeping of the Haven City Museum of Modern History. From there it-'

'Wait, sorry, the what Museum of Modern History? I've never heard of Haven City,' Doctor Watson interjected.

'No, and you won't ever again,' Artemis told her. 'From the museum,' he continued, over the doctor's protests, 'we know that in the early hours of the morning on January 3rd, Brísingamen was reputedly stolen in such as way as to make it look like Captain Short was the thief. However, unbeknownst to the actual criminal, Ho- Captain Short was lucky enough to run into her commander upon leaving the gym.'

Lili Frond groaned.

'Exactly,' Artemis said, smiling coldly down at her. 'They were eating a perfectly innocent meal of kelp suey while Lili Frond and, apparently, these four dwarves were scampering about the museum trying to steal the necklace. Not wanting to put the real perpetrator on guard, or further tarnish Captain Short's reputation, she was sent away to lie low until the thief could be caught. However,' Artemis' smile widened, coming at last to the crux of the matter, 'it wasn't there, was it, Lili? Someone had already stolen it, leaving a fake behind.'

'Yeah ...' Lili trailed off uncertainly, wondering how he could know this, 'It wasn't these girls though, we had it out in Auntie's flat. Turns out they only got to the display case after I had already stolen the fake.'

'Yes, I know that,' Artemis replied. 'Knowing that she was a prime suspect, your aunt sent you to do her dirty work for her, and cover her tracks. Even if the LEP managed to get past the false trail leading to Holly, they'd only get as far as you and your little escapade. But, of course, someone had to have planted the fake, didn't they?

Lili's big blue eyes got even bigger. 'Auntie planted the fake?' she whispered, incredulous, comprehension finally dawning.

There was a moment of pregnant silence.

'No,' said Artemis. 'Loki planted the fake.'

Loki snorted eloquently from the corner. 'Why on earth would I plant the fake? Why on earth would I want to steal Brísingamen at all? My darling boy, this isn't make-believe with your wee captain, you'll have to prove it.' He chuckled, 'What'll I be next, I wonder? Am I secretly Jack the Ripper as well?

Artemis looked thoughtful. 'Well, it's certainly a possibility, but I doubt it. Your sense of adventure doesn't quite run along those lines, I believe.' He flashed his incisors. 'As to proof, well, I'd had my suspicions from rather early on, after we had overheard the conversation between Lili and Freya concerning Lili's failed attempt at thievery. It was only strengthened when we heard the confusion between the dwarves as to just who, exactly, had broken the necklace into pieces. It seemed very fortuitous to me that Loki had managed, fortuitously, to get his hands on one of the pieces. Naturally, I did a bit of background research. Now, according to the records at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, they bought their portion of Brísingamen from one Freya Fòlkvangr. Naturally, I thought this was a bit too obvious so I made a call to an ... acquaintance who works there and inquired about Ms. Fòlkvangr. As it turned out, that wasn't quite correct. My contact was quite sympathetic to "the poor guy". Imagine, he said, having parents cruel enough to name their son after a goddess of fertility. I must say, I certainly agree.'

Holly snorted.

'Now, seeing as Freya had no reason to send Lili to steal Brísingamen a second time, nor make up a story about Loki giving her a piece of the necklace when she could simply admit to have stolen it herself, my conclusion was that she was just as much in the dark as the rest of us. Loki, on the other hand, was the only one to have been in possession, at some point, of all three recovered pieces. At least, I assume it was Mr. Jotunn who sold you your piece, Lord Doyle?'

'Er, yes, yes it was. That was why we enlisted him to help us hunt it down again. But-'

Artemis looked smug, continuing as though Doyle hadn't spoken, 'Therefore, it stood to reason that he was the only one who had ever been in possession of the original. He was very clever, I'll admit, in hiding the pieces in human museums and banks – because it was he that suggested you put your piece away in the bank for safe-keeping, wasn't it, Freya?'

'Yes,' Freya nodded, looking stricken.

'I thought so, that was much too smart for you to have thought of yourself,' Artemis nodded absently. Before Freya could realise she'd been insulted, he was already speaking again. 'This final piece was a bit of a long shot. He hadn't expected, of course, that his plans would go so dramatically awry. Half the pieces stolen within a week of each other? My, I do call that unlucky. He planted the final piece in Freya's house-safe, in case everything fell to pieces, as it seemed to be doing. He knew he would always be able to weasel it away from her but, if things fell apart before that, he could always cut his losses and run, leaving her to take the blame.'

'And why, after having apparently gone to so much trouble, would I let the last piece slip through my fingers? Why not hide it somewhere else, somewhere only I knew about?' Loki asked, one elbow propped casually against a filing cabinet and his cheek resting in his palm. With his other hand he twirled his thin moustache.

'Because I think you rather relished the idea of Freya being sent down for your crime. After all, you didn't need Brísingamen like she did. You didn't even particularly want it. You were bored and you saw an opportunity to create havoc. And that's what you do, isn't it, Loki? Create havoc.'

'How would you know?'

'Because I am ... of the same mindset,' Artemis grinned toothily.

'I say,' Doyle started up again, 'just who is this young Irish chappie? Some kind of amateur detective? Got it all quite nicely- oof!' Just how nicely Artemis had things sorted would forever remain a mystery as, at that moment, Loki elbowed Lord Doyle out of the way, grabbing Doctor Watson by the arm and putting a gun to her temple.

There was a collective groan from his audience.

'You're not serious,' Holly asked him. 'Another hostage? You'll never make it out of the-'

'Do shut up, darling,' Loki interrupted her. 'I'm afraid I've had just about enough of you and your pet monkey-'

'I am not-'

'I said quiet, Fowl, or you'll have this pretty doctor's brains all over your nice suit.'

Artemis made a deprecating sound in the back of his throat; though whether it was at the proposed damage to his suit or at Loki's clichéd dialogue, Holly wasn't sure.

'Now, I want you all to be very good and stay here – that includes you, you great ugly brute,' he jerked his chin at Butler, who had been trying to follow his gut instinct and protect the endangered woman. 'I am going now. I'll leave her at King's Cross, once I've got on a train. From then on, I'm sure I'll be quite ... invisible, wouldn't you say, sweetheart?' He winked at Holly. 'It's a pity you don't seem the co-operative type, or I would've taken you instead. We could've got on quite nicely, don't you think, my dove? Seeing as you have a thing for crooks already.'

Before Holly could move or Artemis could open his mouth, Lili was already there.

'Frond, you are such a pathetic old lech, Loki,' she told him.

'What?' Loki swung round to face her and got knocked to the floor.

There was a moment of silence. Then...

'Oh my Frond. Lili, did you just punch somebody?' Holly gaped.

Lili blushed. 'Well...' she began.

But that was when the Retrieval boys decided that enough was enough.


	8. Chapter 8

Ta da! One whole, complete, entire mystery story. With not one jot of romance.

Well, maybe an 1/8 of a jot. Anyway.

It's been good, I love you all, thanks for sticking with me through my various questionable persuits, write tons in the next few months or I'll be severely disapointed!

Thank you x a million to Ilex-ferox who betaed this super-rush-job-style.

* * *

**January 11****th****, 2011, Heyer's Antiques and Rarities, London, England**

For several minutes there was absolute chaos. A horde of fully kitted out Retrieval officers swarmed in from all sides, each seeming to think it was their Frond-given duty to handcuff as many people as possible.

'Hey! What the- Grub? Is that you? I could recognise that weak spine anywhere. Get those cuffs away from me, I'm not- Oi! Get off Artemis, or Butler'll have your neck-' Holly winced as, distracted, Freya finally released her magical hold on Butler and the big man regained consciousness to see a fairy trying to tie up his charge. The fairy soon found himself eye to eye with bottom of the garbage bin. 'Vein, you idiot,' Holly sighed, still swatting Grub away with her tied hands. The younger Kelp brother tried in vain to catch hold of one of her flapping hands, whimpering if one of her nails accidentally made contact.

Meanwhile, his brother had managed to secure Loki and the dwarves, while the rest of the squad sedated the terrified humans. Lili Frond, originally having been grabbed in a headlock by an over-eager Lieutenant Rapeseed, now sat trussed up like a thanksgiving turkey next to her glowering aunt. She sighed and ran her thumbs over her fingers; checking that all her nails were still there and undamaged.

As the dust settled and everyone was once again able to focus, Commander Root made his entrance. His uniform boots clicked ominously across the wooden floor as he paced the office, glaring at anything that moved.

Unsurprisingly, it was Artemis who spoke first.

'What a lovely surprise to see you again so soon, Commander.' His lips stretched into something that could, under duress, be classified as a smile. From where he half-stood, half-kneeled beneath a dozen buzz-baton wielding officers, Butler groaned at his charge's deliberate Commander-baiting.

Root's brown eyes swung in the human's direction faster than Mulch into a pile of fresh clay. From the boy's face they went directly to Holly's. She thought the implications of that were rather unfair.

'Sir, I didn't-'

Root held up a hand. Holly closed her mouth. 'Words,' he began, glaring at the pair of them, 'can't even begin to express how much I really _do not _want to know.'

Holly nodded, mute.

'Now,' he turned back to the room at large, 'first things first. The humans. Get the techies in here, Verbil, they need to be wiped.' He cocked an eye at the apparently unrepentant Loki. 'Humans, Loki? Wasn't that a bit much? Even for you?'

The pixie shrugged with a "what can I say?" expression on his pointed face.

Root sighed through his nose. 'Alright. Vein, Kelp, you're with Loki. No, not you Grub, Major Kelp. You can take Lili, Grub and- wait, no, on second thought, that was a spectacular punch she just threw, Verbena, you take Corporal Frond.' On he went until only the four usual suspects remained.

'Do you want me to mind-wipe these 'uns as well, sir?' The techie waved a hand at Artemis and Butler. 'Only, we'll need Foaly for that.'

Root ground down on his cigar. 'Do I ever,' he said. The techie moved forward, as did Holly, and Root held up his hand before he had to arrest his officer for assault. 'Unfortunately, it won't do any good, Loopwood. If Fowl's got out of it once, he'll do it again. Besides, I have a sinking feeling I may owe him a favour.'

The Commander chewed on his cigar a moment longer as he contemplated the motley bunch before him. At last he said, 'Come on then, we're going downstairs. I want to know just what has been going on. Your message never came,' he glared at Mulch.

The dwarf raised his hands and shrugged.

Once settled on a mismatched group of chairs at the back of the shop, Root took off his communicator and laid it on a nearby rocking horse. From the screen, Foaly projected a 3D image of his head, dangling beetroot and all.

'Well, well, well,' he whinnied. 'I'm getting the funniest sense of déjà vu. I wonder why that could be? Aren't you two supposed to be happily mind-wiped?'

'Which one of you two reversed it?' Root gnawed his cigar in the direction of Holly and Mulch. The two traded looks. The dwarf sighed.

'I did,' he admitted. 'But only for Holly's sake! She was going to need help!' He opened his dark eyes very, very wide.

Root looked unmoved. 'Uh-huh.' He turned to the captain. 'And you were aware of Mulch's plan, were you?'

'Well,' she squirmed in her seat, 'no, sir, not exactly, but once I found out I did ... I did go to Artemis for help. Sir,' she added belatedly.

'Right.' Now facing Artemis, 'And just what are you asking for in return for your help, Mud Boy?'

'Nothing,' Artemis shrugged. 'Undoubtedly I owe Holly a favour or two.'

'Oh, "Holly" is it now? Owe "Holly" a favour or two, do you? Well, you two've got awful chummy, I must say.' He glared at the pair of them.

Holly opened her mouth to protest but Artemis beat her to it. 'Bonded by trauma,' he said. 'Not our fault, really. Can't help ourselves.'

'Bonded by trauma? _Bonded_- oh for the love of Frond.' So disgusted was Root that he threw his cigar to the floor for emphasis. A moment later he seemed to regret this decision, reducing him, as it did, to merely grinding his teeth. He looked from one unrepentant face to the next. He glanced at Foaly. Hiding it behind the last of the beetroot leaves, the centaur smiled.

'Well, I suppose I can't very well mind-wipe you for helping my officer and bringing in a criminal, can I now?' Root spoke at last. A collectively held breath was released. The commander's lips may have twitched at that, but the lighting was dim, so no one could be sure. 'I have got a question for you though, Fowl. Why wait until you did to do your grand finale? Surely you could have got things sorted out with Freya before she started waving that gun about?'

'Yes, I could have. But the LEP would have needed proof of Holly's innocence and Loki's guilt and so I waited until you arrived as I didn't want to have to explain everything twice.'

Root blinked. 'How did you know the LEP had arrived?' he asked.

Artemis' lips quirked. 'There was a familiar tint to the sky: that faint blue the time stop has. I must say it's really quite lovely against the clouds.'

Root raised his eyes to the heavens.

'That's all well and good, Sherlock,' Foaly had swallowed the last of his tuber, 'but how did you know we were coming at all?'

'Well, Mulch had missed his deadline with Root, so I knew the commander would have half of Retrieval up here at the first hint of trouble. I also know that Mulch keeps his mobile in his trouser pocket and, if I were him and standing about in a hostage-taking with my hands in my pockets, I wouldn't waste my time twiddling my thumbs. Am I right, Mulch?'

'In one, Mud Boy. I called Foaly direct and just let Freya talk and talk. Figured that'd have the cavalry up here in no time.' Mulch looked inordinately pleased with himself.

'Clever little convict,' Foaly chuckled. 'I traced the call and had Retrieval on their way up there in under five minutes. Record timing, if I do say so myself.'

'Yes, yes, you're all too clever for words,' Root agreed quellingly. 'But what I need to know, Fowl, is what you intend to do with your memories.'

'Well,' Artemis glanced briefly at Mulch, then Holly. 'I believe my primary intent is to ... well, I would like to be a friend of the People, Commander. Besides, you must admit that together,' he motioned to Holly, 'we yield very good results.'

'Yes,' Root's lips twisted into something between a smile and a grimace, 'you're quite the little crime-fighting team, aren't you?'

'Well, with my brains and her brawn, how could we not be?'

'Oh, I'm the brawn, am I? That's all? Well! Thank you very much, Master Fowl.' Holly whacked him playfully on the arm, 'I'll give you brawn, buddy.'

Root raised an eyebrow. 'Friends, is it, then, Fowl?'

'I could be a very good friend, don't you think, Commander?' Artemis asked. 'Not to mention Butler.'

Root was vaguely impressed that the teen had somehow managed to turn his offer of friendship into a threat. He looked at Holly. She did a sort of half-shrug, half-smile, head twitch routine and he sighed.

'I suppose it could be useful for us to have a contact in the human world,' he said at last. 'But the minute I get wind of something iffy, Fowl...'

'Don't worry, Commander, you won't.'

'That's what I'm afraid of,' Root muttered.

Artemis smiled his vampire smile.

The End


End file.
